The Hellfire lounge
by Whispurrs
Summary: Let us lounge around and glimpse at the tainted life a glorious dream can lead... when an otherworld villain catches Melody's attention; the villains will use this outcast as a pawn in their grand scheme; and unite with the otherworld's; rising ever greater than before to shift the hierarchy of villainy that exists. expanded from one-shot series idea.
1. Chapter 1

**Liquid Oddity**

**Warnings: villain/heroine, crossover, slight AU [with personalities hopefully intact] smut if you squint and three swears at most.**

When certain tales were looked at in a light too pure, the energy was sucked from them, draining them into an ever brightly burning sun that would never give out heat or warmth, but just be a given thing amongst the sky.

The same could also be applicable for people, as well; especially those with fame and wealth; whose scandals drew hatred from those that they would never meet, and at the same time, an unstated respect; a general gladness for the fact that they were, behind the layers of pomp and importance human, and thus flawed.

The real annoyance to the general public was when the celebrities forgot this fact, and tried to cover every instance that a flaw could be shown from their eyes.

Ariel, and Eric, though well intentioned were two such people; as Eric was little more than the face of royalty and the responsibilities of her title were foreign to Ariel in the past, and unfathomable to her in the present.

''Hi, honey,'' she smiled as she addressed her daughter, fussing with her as if she was that brave, disobedient reckless child that she would in reality always be in her mother's heart.

Ariel stopped her enthusiasm as she looked at the barely contained cringing expression and tried to hide her sadness at noting it.

''This ball is kind of political; so pretend you like people you don't; just grin and bear it; and who knows,'' she giggled, before whispering, ''you might even see a boy.''

''I can hear you, you know, Ariel;'' Eric teased, warmly, ''and they'd_ have_ to be dad approved.''

She rolled her eyes, a pinch of guilt coming for showing her disinterest after how much she had hurt her parents in the past.

She did not, however, care about the past as much as she did for the future; she was princess of a kingdom; and that kingdom needed to be looked after properly; which she couldn't do if the treated her like the child she once was.

Of course, she was soon to be shipped off for marriage; she had seen it happen to more than one childhood acquaintance, and was, in fact quite happy when she discovered one of her horrid, tormenting brats; Annalise was to be wed to a dull and portly aristocrat.

Sadly, her indulgent feeling of vengeance was quenched when she found said pain in the royal behind [as with many things, it was improper for royalty to swear, otherwise the word she'd have used would have been far stronger] was, due to his excessive amount of money and his likelihood of dying before a thirst for little heir making; which even to a saint would be a ghastly prospect with him involved.

However, before being bound by a cold ring she wanted to make some impact on her home; and whilst the joining of the sea and land was all well and good in the short run, first off it was good only in principle, with increased strength meaning increased enemies and a confused system of dealing with them, not to mention the riotous protests fishermen had to the ban on the consuming and slaughtering of fish when it was one of the primary industries; and to do something of any noteworthy size in childhood made her fear that her adult life would seem defunct in comparison.

She still felt torn at believing that her parent's would arrange a marriage for her; as they both had a love that would once have ended in tragedy and were happy together; plus her grandfather was extremely protective, but the reality was she was a tool in politics even if she was more than that in addition.

She'd been very helpful in uniting two opposing kingdoms [though to visitor's it was never mentioned the kingdom recently united was the sea for want of seeming to have crazed monarchs], and as such many others would want her to bring unity to their lands.

Even if that was not the case, Ariel considered herself a failure of aprincess and a queen; never really abiding to the rules as one in her home, and never adapting to the ones on land; and so she pressed Melody's princess duties on her with relish in hope's she would be better; and if lessons and the like were considered a part of being a successful princess; so too was a neatly arranged marriage.

She just hoped that when the day came, she'd take it with her head held high, and at least pretend to like the man they chose, although she had to admit they would not choose anyone inherently bad for her.

Yet she was, despite trying her hardest not to be, awful in those mandatory lessons; always daydreaming about the sea or stories, or how brilliant she was going to be as a woman when she got the chance [of course not knowing womanhood involved such lovelies as PMS, stomach cramps and being used as a bartering chip].

Her nature was too fickle to handle them, and often she would end up in a temper in frustration at her lack of skills.

If she could not keep her temper whilst reciting what princesses should and should never do; how on Earth was she going to manage being a baby [and she shuddered, intercourse] machine for some insufferable man?

She stared out to_ her_ sea, as she imagined it always; despite it having an actually quite sizeable population and it glistened back at her, edging her on, if not to be extraordinary, smile through her teeth.

She was sorely unhappy that Sebastian was not allowed to accompany her to formal events anymore; as the rule adoring little crab conjured up a mess for her that, in her new circumstances would be much more preferable to idle small talk.

Her mother knew her all too well and, reading her mind restricted Sebastian to recite rules so ancient to her she wanted to find whoever invented the rules and smack him on the head with one of his extremely long books for utter banality.

Still, there was a ball to attend to, no doubt packed to the brim with the most ''interesting'' people you could find; assured, once again to be a riveting experience for all involved.

She tried hunting down the dress she was meant to be wearing; hoping it wasn't some ghastly thing like the first few ball gowns she encountered; before finding, for once it was anything but.

It was a silken thing; in a pale shade of the colour that her tale had been, for her brief foray into mermaid form; but not all of it was well, as it was a decidedly clingy thing, latching onto every curve and showing more cleavage than she thought the stuffy old rule book would allow, no doubt a preview of things to come for her prospective buyers.

Still, however inconvenient aspects of it were, she could not deny it was lovely.

She walked down, to prepare with her mother; and brace herself for being bored out of her wits; but, even with all said and done, it was going to be a long ride.

….

She walked down the stairs, elegantly, if unsurely to a cheering crowd, smiling as demurely as she could [although even in that case it looked as if she tipped toothpaste into her eyes and was scowling from the pain], and after thanking various people tried heading straight for a quiet, nigh abandoned corner of the room, with nothing making her face look bizarre under pressure.

''Ah, hello, Melody.'' A rich voice called to her.

Hmm; she noted, this one seemed fun; as was, in the circumstances abnormal; she was going to savour her time with him, if any of the other guests would oblige her that simple victory.

Looking at the conversations they were trying to hound her mother with; and her mother's facial expressions telling her how much she wished she could still put her middle finger up to diplomacy, fancy a boy and become an angry, rebellious mess of hormones because of it , even if it would mean missing out on the most _fascinating_ of conversations.

''Hello yourself,'' she replied, grinning as she turned to him, only just fumbling to remember her manners, ''I thought you wouldn't really like formalities…''she paused, apologetically, wondering how and why on Earth she had messed up such a small thing.

''Correct assumption; Melody.'' He chuckled, reassuring her somewhat.

As she finally looked at him; she was, to say the least underwhelmed with what she saw.

He was not; as she had hoped, however selfishly; a Lord or baron or other redundant title who had a shining sense of humour despite his position; but an older man with an odd look about his face, enhanced by deep set, nigh on yellowed eyes and a beard of a length to rival Rapunzel's locks, still, beggars could not be choosers, and he had at least proved himself worthy company through words.

''Well; it's a little obvious you'd know my name; but what's yours?'' she asked, trying to keep conversation away from her quite shallow dissatisfaction.

''Grigori; Grigori Rasputin.'' He told her, somewhat uninvolved with how generic the conversation was turning, as she made a mental note that savouring was not idle small talk.

''Foreign?'' she enquired; nearly slapping herself over the head when she realised how obvious.

''Russian,'' he answered; almost laughing, in a way that got her quite concerned.

''You know, princess, I thought you would have brains to accompany your beauty.''

Whatever a man could do to her [and, with Triton as a grandparent she'd have to be five years into marriage for that to be anything substantial] he would never insult her intelligence and come out unscathed; as many droll pretty boys had realised, leaving Ariel to sigh and tick their names off the ''bethrotable'' list.

''Well, Rasputin; I do, even if they're not really switched on at the moment- did any other monarch you know read Shakespeare as an infant?'' she asked teasingly, although in reality it was as an adolescent; not even two years ago and she thought him overrated for the riotous applause he had.

''No,'' he laughed, ''and you didn't either.''

''Oh, fine then,'' she giggled, mock sulking; ''but I do have brains – somewhere; not that anyone cares or will care about those; I think we can all agree on the reason I'm packaged up tonight.'' As beautiful as her dress was, it was the clothing equivalent of brown paper packaging and string for anyone who was ogling at her, or eyeing her up for an alliance through marriage; and at best a distraction for her ''refreshing'' personality.

''Well, that is a shame; but, you, are of course; a gorgeous young woman.''

Yay, she sighed; small talk; still, she would use what she was given to the best of her advantage; and besides, she could do no real harm; anyone's behind could be kicked out of there at merely a click of her fingers.

It had been a while since she had made up her mind; her _own_ mind; not been handed something by someone else to make a choice with; and she decided, all in all, this choice was a relatively harmless one, especially in her position.

That was the day Melody decided again.

The day she decided….. She, of all people, would flirt.

…..

In another's eyes, that would be the most insane thing any monarch could choose; especially when, in those aforementioned_ other _eyes there were men far more suited to it.

Those other eyes, however knew nothing of Christophe's charming tendency to roll his eyes and dismiss any opinion other than his own [male or female, in this respect he was not discriminatory, and earned perhaps just a bit of her respect for that] as insignificant twaddle; even if prior to the conversation he said he held the view himself.

She almost had the courage to tell him that she hated syphilis, and wondered if he felt the same to find out what his response would be; but she was certain Ariel would somehow know that she had asked it and jail would be a tempting prospect in comparison to the numerous lectures she would be on the receiving end of.

Neither did those rhetorical others know of Victor's thoroughly_ endearing _talent of murdering people by conversation that seemed to make paint drying a fascinating subject, worthy of a thousand books dedicated to it.

These were but two of the immaculate catastrophe's that were her potential husband's; and made Rasputin; as unconventional in looks as he was, a perfect choice; well, the only real choice to quench her thirst for flirting.

With the way her mother was approaching her, more than a hint of nervousness in her smile she was going to regret the flirting before it had even begun.

Whilst she had noticed that people were avoiding him like a bad smell, Rasputin was not an inherently bad guy, insofar as she could tell; and the lack of people around him was the reason she was drawn to him.

''Looks like I'll have to talk to her and I haven't even told Christophe what a pig he is nor even thought, before now of course, of smacking him in the face; what a pity, but excuse me anyway.''

Melody was right, her mother's face was an open book, and this one was titled ''flee from that man my crazy daughter!''

''Please, darling,'' her mother begged, ''use some caution with him; you got tempted by a sea witch and mortal men can be just as bad…''this one was going to go down in history as the most uncomfortable conversation, with dislike and disagreeing across the board she had encountered.

Goodie.

''Mother;_ you _were tempted by one as well; and I was only twelve at the time; I can handle myself.'' She snapped back, instantly guilty for her abrupt response, but unable to express the emotion to her mother's mournful facial expressions.

If they had such an obvious distaste for the guy, why in hell's name did they invite him there; after all, it wasn't as if he was some manic green skinned fae who would take away her life if he wasn't invited.

''Sorry about that,'' she paused, wincing, ''you don't seem to be the most popular man today, do you?'' yes, it was tactless, yes, she was going to regret it; but she needed to know, and from who better than the man himself in question.

''You are compassionate, miss Ashman; I will give you that,'' he laughed uneasily; ''I was accused of something or other; that I can admit, but what act of blackened magic I cannot.''

She scoffed indignantly at that, ''trust me, you're _far_ too subtle.'' From her family's experience, all villains had come practically wearing an ''I am an a nasty person'' sign over their head, and whilst her mother's point was true, naivety was something that was prone to death.

''ah, Personal experience?'' he asked.

''well, you could say that….''' She replied, and he could also say that her family was cursed for having to deal with two rampaging sea witches who wished for their deaths and a kingdom.

The conversations they were having were not going as planned, needless o say; and as she espied copious amounts of alcohol she was pretty certain that it was going to be best if she was too intoxicated to remember everything.

She was, however, a princess with responsibilities to her kingdom and her family.

Still; things were not going as planned and she was only going to get, at the most a little tipsy.

All in all, it would be absolutely harmless.

….

Needless to say, it was _not _absolutely harmless, although in her state Melody would not be able to predict the chaotic aftermath that would follow from it and the various lectures; but already a reasonable ruckus had been caused.

Although there was an absolute multitude of things a princess was not meant to do; and all of them were reasonable, if unreasonably annoying to learn in succession, and to be reminded of on repeat.

She knew, however, that three things would be up on the list as the darkest, most scandalous things for any princess to do; those were as follows; a princess was not meant to down copious amounts of alcohol, and not meant to flirt; most certainly not with a man perhaps twice her age that the rest of the room seemed to have an inherent hatred for. And most of all, princesses were not meant to lose their virginity to such men.

Guess what Melody did; like a prized fool?

Why ticked all the untickable boxes, of course.

While the whole thing was utterly unconventional, at that moment, not realising the consequences she felt a pang of guilt that at the time was not identifiable as such, tried to ask herself what in God's name she was doing, and in lack of a coherent answer, shrugged and resigned herself to the fact that Rasputin must have had some hidden charms.

…..

Well, his master hadn't been back for a while- not that he knew why exactly he was going, but with Rasputin it was always about Anastasia and he was no therapist; and whether or not he could hi- yah the girl the subject was getting old fast.

He decided that somehow, he'd have to check up on him; you know, to see if his revenge had been fulfilled and all and just what did he find; a giggling girl doing some_ wacky_ gymnastics.

Still; he was not focusing on Anastasia- that was a bonus.

If only he could figure out why they were going that – humans, well, deceased and then conjuring humans, and human women, and human princess women – being a bat was so much more sane.

**Notes**

**Was that a Boney M reference – oh, hellfire yes :]** **Anyway, I know Rasputin is from Anastasia, which isn't Disney, but since there will be a lot of crossovers I don't know what category to put them in, but they won't all be crossovers either.**

**I really don't know if I have Rasputin in character as I haven't watched Anastasia for an age and all I can find is his song and three IMDB quotes; but a lot of people don't like his original character anyway, so maybe that's for the better.**

**So, my readers, it's time for you to use your power; what to write next; sadira/jafar, Hexxus/oc or enchanté [enchantress/forte]?**

**Perhaps you'd rather a character piece to a pairing; that would be a fine suggestion too.**

**You can also choose the tone, if you wish to; but it will vary anyway. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Faded**

A monarch would be granted finery in arts and possessions, exquisite silks and skilled swords that had no doubt severed through many unfit men without even having one trace of a stain on its blade; and an abundance of wealth beyond mortal imagination; but this king was granted no worldly, or otherwise pleasure.

This king was cunning, always making the right moves for his benefit, until one slip up came and pushed him to the depths of ridicule; although, all things considered, in all actuality it was probably _two_ slip ups.

Though he could caress any jewels he desired and crush the skulls of fleetingly idiotic men and women, blood trickling down like a fine, finite crimson wine, sure to be savoured until it had vanished from the corpse.

Death seemed to linger around him, clinging like a limpet to his presence for reassurance that it was, as it would always be the highest power imaginable however simple a thing it could so very often be.

Maleficent was the one with all the glory; everything about her oozing the ideals her followers praised her for with a disgusting, and somewhat ignorant zeal each time she so much as passed them.

She would, inevitably glare, perhaps even put the fear if hell into them; at which the pain she inflicted would just widen their awe towards her; but any and every one could tell she adored the attention of her minions, flocking to her as if she held the key to their revenge.

Not to their redemption.

**Never** to their redemption.

Redemption was far too fickle a thing for any of them to aim for; which would resurface emotions that were euthanized for the safety of their owners, with guilt crushing those they has evolved to, and whispers from the times before taunting them with their innocence and perfection.

In a twisted and unusual way; he could say he was blessed in that respect; as he had no times of innocence to mourn, and, if he was not detained for the mutual safety of heroes, villains, and backgrounds he would enjoy, in his own way; for he could enjoy things, talking to Chernabog about the hands they had been dealt in their quasi-life.

He recalled, with a slight smile that only his most sincere of friends could notice [thus no one other than himself, and on a good day, Frollo; although the man was more of a wreck than ever when he saw one of his kind; the pathetic man; acceptance was needed for what he was because in this world they could not change; and God was just a pretty vision] that he was, often alongside the priest and Chernabog, often known as Satan, the lucky devil; as one of the only, truly and deeply engrained _evil _Disney villains with a malice his few but devoted fans thought of as more sadistic and stronger even than Maleficent, Jafar and Hades; the trio of inconceivable power in the world they resided in.

''Anything that you may require, master?'' A young woman asked tentatively, being careful with her slow sure steps.

This girl was Linden; a background, no doubt who should have had the ideal life that was the constant mantra the princes and princesses, defeaters of the vile always, always prayed their people would have when it came to speeches.

Some, like Tiana and Mulan stuttered at this, Mulan not in the least as she was only honorary [Pocahontas was too controversial with more than one man to count, despite her listing in the other world; although she was still a _respected_ noble] those sorts pleading to God that they would a have a life outside of the norm and then to deliver a message so far from their hopes, but even with the hesitance, they always said it nonetheless.

However, this girl had always seemed a curiosity to him; and not in that infuriating way Alice all too often did, poking her nose where it wasn't wanted.

In fact Linden was quite the opposite; she had a good deal of sense about her, keeping her mouth closed when it came to political affairs or those of even his smallest plans, and with a good ear and eye to the uncanny; even if she was prone to spouting intelligent sounding nonsense at the smallest things; like Gringoire's sister; if he was included in Hunchback; and of course had one.

He remembered when that film was announced, all villains cautiously optimistic for such a well-respected and revered villain of literature, who unlike any other had killed his opponent; but, as with Anderson's tale; it was made happily; and though Frollo was beloved by fans his religious fanaticism was irritating to say the least.

''Sir…?'' she asked again, quieter, edging nearer.

''Nothing save the integrity of silence.'' He scowled at her.

She turned away then, almost without a sound, mumbling an irked yes with a look that meant she was going to skin something alive soon, for whatever reason would take her fancy.

It was obvious she was not, like the heroes pure; but just how she was, and to what extent she was impure was a mystery to him, and one he would not care to have solved.

She was an invaluable resource, as were all his minions, as after the liberation none had come back to him; and after his defeat and rebirth any potential aid from outside of his first world was hesitant at best to join him.

They came nearly all at once, though not at the volume that expression would suggest; each a background somehow scorned by their monarch's ideal; her from Briar's kingdom and three from Eric's kingdom; as well as one from one of the many otherworld branches, coming from a place called Syracuse.

The man from Syracuse was in every sense rough, swearing like his mouth was filled with sewer water and never one to mince his words, but he worked hard and had a cunning mind; always pointing flaws in his strategies, and although it irked him; it showed how to make them, in theory at least fool proof.

Briar's kingdom was declining, despite Snow offering unrivalled support to both her and her prince; as the girl, though delicate was made for cosy woodland winters and not balls of elegance, and whilst Phillip had more of a face for his people than either Charming; but a face and a name were not enough for peace and prosperity, and whilst at times he was dull his fickleness could also cost those around him quite dearly.

The kingdom was, unlike his own a vapidly exquisite one; with nature blooming to its finest all around, and picturesque villages with people who seemed to live every day as if they were the ideal one; but even such places had politics, much to the King and Queen's distaste.

His kingdom was as dank and unwanted as always, with the drawback of his men fleeing; a lot of them to the snugly duckling; where needless to say men of their morals did not deserve to be.

Still despite what would have been in their best interests; after many a ruffian wanted something more sinister than a dream to come true, the prince and princess persevered, determined it would stay a friendly refuge accessible to all, even if in practise it was not so easy.

He would be reluctant to do what he had to with the leader's, other than Briar/Aurora/uninteresting fragile little flower; as they all had some degree of knowledge and competence, whether the sill be with blade or mind.

He did not know what it was he would have to do to them; as death was rules out for even him; he found torture far too overblown in pomp and circumstance to fully enjoy it; quick and precise with a hint of lingering pain was his method of killing; not a misshapen showmanship which resulted in nothing new.

He could never forge an alliance; save perhaps with Melody Ashman, daughter of Ariel and Eric; who had, according to the numerous rumours been seen with an otherworld man who turned out, from the knowledge of the leader of that specific world; Anastasia, to have been a felon.

The punishment for her had not yet been more than speculated; and with such a high ranking family banishment was out of the question; although so too was a pardon from the founder.

All others were to unwavering in their determination to forge any bond with any other than Sykes, who was subtle, and, much like himself; the behorned king noted, a simple man when it came to feats of villainy.

But Melody was young, and if not enamoured with the so impassioned ''suitor'' Rasputin could, from the tales that had been spreading round tell she was in no position to be married; in another tradition she had broken, along with countless others.

Many of the monarch's had bemoaned the impossibility of a child unless they were granted a ''second life''; but with this news he could be assured many were glad.

It was an odd affair; before he had joined the Uniworld; forged predominately by a man called Disney he knew Children grew to adults, and then died, but in this world they only visibly grew, after their usually second life conception until the age of their parents at the time of their birth.

A time of scandal nigh ensured they would be undetected; and as always, there was no time like the present.

He summoned Linden once more, and so she returned, hesitantly and somewhat agitated, hiding it very badly.

''I will need the details of the Ashman's Kingdom; that is all, contact the others if you wish.'' She bowed silently, turning to each side for more information, and, when finding none walked out again with not a word; perhaps to gather her fellow supporters.

He had to make his brand of magic enticing, and benevolent in appearance; as the girl had some experience before with a villainy that showed too many signs for its own good.

Of course, having horns and blood red eyes could not possibly help his image; and she was not that intelligent if she had fallen; albeit in a different way again for a villain; but still, every hindrance had to be challenged and every possible path to defeat blocked if he was to make any success with his life.

Not that he knew what the final success would be; but half the fun was to plan the plan; and the other to improvise.

He had the best team for both of those jobs, or so it seemed, though of course he would never grant them the assured taste of arrogance they would have if he told them that or anything similar.

**Author's Note**

**To phoenix360; I am doing Hexxus/Oc, of course, but I had the urge to write a little horned king and since it is a Disney fic, I did have to put Disney in between non Disney, or so I felt; but feel free to berate me.**

**I've also tried explaining more about the world; as most of the stuff I and others have written like this the world of Disney is just there.**

**Otherworld's are like the worlds of Don Bluth and Dreamworks, hence Syracuse from Sinbad; and second life means sequel.**

**As for experiences outside of canon, these come from the imagination of the characters but are still engrained in them to give them a sense of identity; and when a prequel comes along; it is a true addition to those artificial memories.**

**I will continue this, but would you rather the oneshots were in an interconnected storyline; a whole story and not oneshots at all or in their current frame, since I now have a lot of ideas; if it were to scrap the original idea, it would focus a lot on how Melody would cope being an outcast from royalty, the heirarchy of villains, the problems of the different realms and horned king trying to make an alliance with the villains of ****_some_**** otherworlds, such as quest for Camelot, road to el dorado, sinbad and of course Anastasia.**

**I'm going to be blunt; most of the time, I hate my stories so I'll need incentive not to abandon this if it does become a full story; but I am so intruiged with how it will work out I really want to try it, with your permission.**

**Anyway, all thoughts are welcome :]**


	3. Chapter 3

**Abisinthe and similar are stuff of dreams and nightmares…**

Consequences were things she would have done well to dwell upon, the princess sighed, wondering just how God would let a rash decision set the stage for a lifetime when said life was before so meticulously planned and preened, and joy prayed for.

These were the last things on her mind however as she woke up; her senses muffled in a throbbing warmth and her head subjected to torture by not only every drop of light, but look to her side and crease of her forehead.

If she planned to be detected the plan had failed in a pitiful fashion; hardly a thing concealable in her current state, other than her nudity.

She sighed at the lack of man beside her; of course, if she was far too inebriated to know a thing else she was not foolish enough to think more of the process he had been through than a night's pleasure, but if someone was such an obvious precursor to trouble why couldn't they remain at least in common courtesy to destiny.

She changed her clothes and brushed the tangles from her hair, humming whilst doing so to regain pieces of normality and to cement the illusion nothing had happened other than within the standards of such balls as she was in.

What she certainly did not except while humming a fragmented tune from when she had tried a tail for size was her mother to burst in without a smidge of the vocality she used in arguments; face pallid and gaunt.

''Melody; I know what you did,'' she paused, gulping mid-sentence like something grotesque was stuck in the air she was breathing; ''I know about that man.''

Guilt crept up; its spindly legs crawling up her back ready to gorge in her blood after the initial sensation of cold blood as she too had a lump in her throat.

''What man, mother?'' she asked hesitantly, before cursing the addition of mother to her question; always an indicator of some wrong doing; as she stumbled through tidying trinkets away.

''Oh God; he didn't –''Ariel hesitated, pure horror I her eyes as blood drained from her face, before she let an exhausted, but relieved nonetheless sigh escape her lips, ''no; we saw you last night; he_ didn't_…''

She was confused to this; one law in an otherwise non-existent moral code from him meaning that her daughter was truly , at least in part, what the rumours claimed her to be; even if the evidence of her eyes wasn't enough.

''Look Melody; we know what happened; and you have to know some other things too; no more secrets, remember?'' she told her daughter, recalling wit fondness the time they promised, shortly after their near death's that neither would lie to the other, despite herself, she even smiled a little, clearly inappropriate.

''That man wasn't just from Russia; he was from one of those otherworld's and, sweetie; he was _the villain_,'' she stopped, not knowing whether she wanted to scream at her daughter or lock her in a warm embrace.

''No,'' Melody protested, angry now; ''he wasn't a saint you call him that; is the world really so black and white? Well, I'm not one either now.''

Ariel blocked Melody's argument from her mind, needing to move to other things as quickly as she could, given the circumstances.

''Melody,'' she paused the air seeming to fester around her as she did so, ''our worlds are; I don't want this Mel, I don't, but I have to tell you. A girl –woman, actually, called Anastasia – he killed her family; almost all of them; and, Melody,_ I_, I don't know what we can do; even if I can….''

Melody did not want to hear the ending of the fractured sentence her mother could not finish, thinking of a thousand ending that would spell her death in no uncertain terms; but worse still; the death of her parent's happiness; that she had sworn from jeopardising as a child she would never risk again.

She; she conversed with a murderer; flirted with a murderer and was no longer innocent because of him, in many ways; perhaps she was no longer human, if she had done what she had; how many graves would turn in anger and revulsion at the ecstasy she had felt.

How many people hated her because of it?

How much did_ she_ hate herself because of it?

Finally, she struggled out an, ''I never knew…''; words seeming to weave themselves into a mystical, more intricate silence that made the world fall into the lull of dreams, whilst retaining the vividness of a nightmare fresh on an awakened mind.

''I know; it was our fault; we should never-''

…

That, all in all, was the beginning of the end; after a minute or so of unsuccessful attempts off comfort from one another, Melody discovered the true impact of her action.

The princesses were alerted afterwards; Aurora smug about the more popular princess created after her [as she quite discredited Eilonwy, due to her films problem's, ''poor thing''] having her toe more that dipped into the murky shores of scandal, and, better yet, her precious daughter, showing them all it was a blessing in disguise no one else could have children; and Jasmine, although not pleased with the whole affair, unlike the other princess was vocal as she could be about how Melody should be thrown to the villains and see how she likes them then.

All others were silent about the affair, obviously conflicted at best; other than the discredited Pocahontas, who showed signs of sympathy although admitted she could not begin to comprehend the situation, or look into it unless she was needed for help.

Though Melody was not; thank God thrown as bait to the villain's she was banished from the kingdom; but, as its princess would be granted all her possessions and money wherever she went to; and would get letters from her parents as much as humanly possible.

She was also not officially allowed to speak to any heroine or hero, although that generally applied to only the princesses and would not be as enforced with others, in the unlikely event they would speak to her at all.

She would so miss the company of them all, although she was; due to distance between lands never in the company for long; she would miss Snow's all-encompassing kindness and subtle wisdom, that despite her in comparison average looks and true feminine personality shone through every pore; Aurora's elegance, although not much else about her; the quiet determination of Cinderella and the sweetness of her reformed sister; Belle's knowledge she would share passionately with anyone; Jasmine's spirit and determination; sure to be pitted against her in her current situation.

Mulan would hate her; as well, she knew it, and understood it; Tiana she would be broken at the thought of being disliked by, so aspiring to be like her in only a short time of knowing her, and Rapunzel's creativity and bubbly nature would never shine on her again.

The last rule that was spoken/written and was evidence the eye could she was that she was not allowed to marry, nor be in any relationship with a relative of a hero or noble of any kind.

She could have stabbed herself for such a short, defining and binding creation of her own hell; but all she could do was find strength in the darkness, and bring the darkness back to who deserved it.

….

She was now in Prydain, a dull little place that had never recovered from the grasp of its king; children far too young to lead a country in spirit as well as body and somewhat unhinged by the ignorance of them across the kingdoms.

To all inhabitants, the politics by backgrounds who would not know how to rule a stable was far from perfect; the food prices and overall bland cuisine and other arts, the lack of half the charm and grace of a place like Corona all made this place less than perfect for anyone ordinary.

And so, it came to be a perfect place for one in hiding.

She knew not where Eilonwy was nor how to contact her about the magic of the land and how it could be harnessed whilst maintaining the guise of an ordinary citizen, and make no fuss.

While there was nothing more she could do she acquired a small cottage, and attempted to live life with as little chaos as possible; only requiring a lamp and books out of all her splendid things.

Though they didn't need sleep; their bodies still liked it; and the tug of drowsiness would almost drown her in its effectiveness at times; a hard enemy to keep at bay but the most necessary to avoid.

If the horned king had torn her from her room then and there and roared at her with the intensity of a beast she would have declared him better than the night; a string of badly written plays, each a repeat of the other with a few forms changed; shoddy but somehow captivating, at the wrong moment enticing and then – then the memories and emotions flooded back, in a way no merfolk could ever hope to swim against.

She'd damn him to hell if she could, throw him into the fiery pit he deserved; but they never got what they deserved; they lived, and lived forever; far too long for them to dwell, further still to care.

It was at one of the times she was avoiding the night plague a visitor decided to come and speak with her; at an hour which seemed to be far too perfect a setting for a horror, like those of Poe and Shelley Belle had advised her against for her liking; but it was a distraction nonetheless and so somewhat welcome.

''I am sorry to disrupt you; Miss, but I am from the Prydain alliance.'' The woman standing at the door introduced herself vaguely a woman with matted, dull blonde hair and eyes that had seen the cesspits of the world.

''Hey, you wouldn't want me; I'm hardly a princess or anything.'' She giggled; trying to recover her childhood personality to win over and deceive anyone she had to.

''Look, we both know to some extent what this is about; you are Miss Melody Ashman of Atlantica and the and daughter of King Eric and Queen Ariel, currently banished due to a liaison with Grigori Rasputin. I do not want to punish you; but make you an offer to join us, and by that you know I don't mean the government.''

She sighed; wondering how thin her guise must have been, before consoling the fact that only one person, and an intelligent person at that saw through it; a small source of comfort in a tiny kingdom.

''If it makes this for you any better we had a whole team working on this,'' she obviously neglected to say it consisted of five people and was flared by rumours that were growing ever in controversy, scope and fury each passing day; but it was her kind of kindness, even if it was uncomfortable to offer it.

''I can't tell you at this moment in time who I do work for as we have to see your instincts; but if you choose to accept we will offer you unprecedented access to magic and wealth alike, and we will strive to obtain you a pardon at our weakest.''

The woman was becoming agitated and was obviously seeking a response from her, unhappy with the silence offered.

''Look; let's pretend we're proper; alright? How do you do; my name's Linden.'' She paused awkwardly, offering her hand as if it would prompt a reaction from her more than the lecture did.

''Hello, Linden; then, I have a question, though; will he be…''she moved a finger across her neck to imitate a beheading; uncomfortable with expressing her desire in words.

''Oh, tortured?'' The woman stated, unsure of what she could reply with, ''I'll talk to my boss; but I think he'll be even more willing to have you join us with that attitude.''

She offered her hand once more; this time more confident Melody would react; and the two shook; making Linden smile a grin of a purity Melody would not associate to anyone talking about what she had just been.

''So; why the grin?'' Melody asked, attempting to turn the conversation to a friendly one after the oddity and intensity it had started with.

''Let's just say my boss will be a happier bunny than normal about this; and that's _always_ good.'' She continued smiling, looking a little more like a child caught doing something embarrassing the overseeing adults proclaimed adorable.

''Can you tell me who the boss is, then?'' she asked; having a feeling this woman was more than overtly conscientious about her work for a smile of that size.

''No can do; but I will give you a hint; perffeithrwydd ar gyfer y wallgof; well, I never said you'd understand it!''

With that she walked out, leaving no trace of her ever being there save for a card with the address that she would escort her to the following Wednesday; which she advised Melody to hide somewhere safe and invisible to enquiring eyes.

Of course, her head was buzzing from that brief meeting; overflowing with doubts, before dismissing them and telling herself any organisation that sought to harm Rasputin and help her was good; despite the evidence to the contrary.

However, the hint; however small scale on the list of things she ought to have been worrying about [she never did have priorities] was still on her mid; and she resigned herself to the fact it had to be in Welsh, the formal tongue of Prydain and how he must have; to have had any description of him with a fraction relish Linden recalled it been a good man; unlike most of the company she found herself keeping; a witch/octopus/mermaid hybrid was hardly the best of omens for her life, was it?

Linden herself, however may or may not have been good company to keep for whatever a period of time; and were she not would have possibly rendered her life worse, or at least in any case would have made whomever she worked for bad by the association.

Still, however disturbing it could turn; this new food for thought was certainly a distraction; and better yet a fresh one, unlike those well leafed through paper backs that would have been abandoned after a few days, not even having read mid-way; and then somehow would be devoured ravenously at night.

….

''My Lord; we have gained contacts for you; Dion has obtained information not only about how Rasputin managed to slaughter the majority of his heroine's family; but also some others; such as Eris; whom he remembers from a brief reign of tyranny in his world; and a spirit of nature; Hexxus. Please refrain from asking how we obtained that, sir…'' she said, trying not to provoke his anger as she did so; still determined not to show him she herself did not know and look a fool at greater expense.

Luckily, he remained silent; a glare fleeting on his expression; but no large display of hatred towards her shown.

''I will leave the information to you, Sir; so you can decide whom to contact first.'' She finished abruptly, before handing him the list of names they had found; flesh lingering against bone; a bile fascination growing in her with those skeletal hands; and whether they could feel any warmth within them at all…

Such thoughts were not for then; she scolded herself, trying to reign in those more feral thoughts that ran amok when things needed to be done.

It was decided they would first approach Hexxus; as he wanted to start with strength but thought that a Goddess would be above him; true, she had obviously failed her attempt at toying with Sinbad; but something so deeply engrained as chaos would never just go away; destined, and doomed to be eternal.

It not only shared traits with, but in turns both helped and hindered love…

It was, then as powerful as the one most powerful thing in there universe; and since lust had come into play with Frollo and now Melody, albeit at vastly different levels; and even unrequited love had been touched upon, albeit briefly.

The very reason why the hunt for allies was kick-started was because of Melody's little guest having extra privileges; which on its own would be a testament to Eris' power was because of it, and it was thus obvious she was not entitled to be near a woman of such power; even if he was.

She then began contemplating why it was Melody had been punished when Jasmine was pardoned for her kissing of Jafar; it was to save Aladdin, but in their terms kissing was like losing your virginity; which Melody had done in actuality.

She was hardly involved with the politics of any other world; the virtual nonexistence of those in the kingdom she was born in leading her to be wary and irritated by them at best; but she had heard enough to gather with the underlying tension from their rocky relationship was sure to mean she at least had a partial enjoyment of it.

So, Eris was causing the situation; she hoped, above all that Hexxus was as capable; as he too was a force of nature; namely its destruction; but against all odds he had been contained by, as seemed to be law no more than a teenage girl; albeit with magic on her hands.

Still; a force that could manipulate nature sounded capable at least; and when combined with her leader, nigh unstoppable.

Why then; she asked herself, did her leader fail that first time against amateurs; luckily they were given immunity from death but he had conquered vast lands seemingly without movement or caution; and it was children who let his empire crumble?

Even if it was justice, it certainly wasn't common sense.

She prayed that for such and easily defeated idea of a person was not as supremely dull as she imagined him to be; all botanically maniacal and as funny as her master was; as comedy was a talent he, needless to say did not possess.

The question; if they all were poetically inclined, that is to say, on everyone's mind was this; would opportunities wither or bloom, especially when nature's darker side had a strategical date with someone who was even more evil than the devil in his universe.

**Author's Note**

**I hope I did alright on this chapter as my feelings about it are the very least mixed; but one heck of a lot has been going on today and the last few days as a whole, so my mind has been on other things, for which I am sorry.**

**In the meantime I have acquired a taste for creature feature and Emilie Autumn, so fellow plague rats speak out; as I am probably the only one in my whole country. **

**Do you think everyone is in character, any room for plot twists, and boy did Linden underestimate Hexxus.**

**That reminds me, do you think she is overly prominent or a Mary Sue, I have had trouble with both in the past, so I'd love it if you could comment your thoughts to me. **

**Also, I know it is a really odd chapter name, but it just seemed to go...yeah, there is no real explanation for it, ah well...**


	4. Chapter 4

**WithinToxicaing**

Waiting was a fool's errand and a mirthless game.

Waiting was the only thing she had been allowed to do; as was her extremely well-developed luck; pacing and tapping at walls and tables the only realistic actions to take; both things that in their annoying nature would surely worsen her levels of sanity further.

''You're making me feel dizzy.'' Dion grunted, even so somewhat amused at how the time was eating away at her.

He was the man from Syracuse, the one that had sniffed out the information about Rasputin and the others; and today, in light of his victory; he had never looked more bedraggled; shirt torn, some scar tissue showing; with mud encased on his face and hair.

He obviously would have stuck a dagger into a hairbrush if it dare confront him; and in all honesty she would not risk it for the severed limb that would ensue, even if he did smell worse than rats piss; and somehow was never without a woman, more a sign of things he had acquired more than anything on his own behalf.

She made a mental, almost audible sigh that Audrey was now, once again on the side of those designated heroes; as she lacked strength of any comparison to hers with which to knock the smile off his face.

''What is it that you propose I should do then?'' She asked, feeling the chance he would discover any new activity negligible.

''Easy; talk about Hexxus.''

She wrinkled her nose and rolled her eyes at this proposition; how interesting could he be if he was defeated so very easily by a tree of all things; all in all it was nigh inevitable that he would be as dull a character as Edgar; and to talk of such people always turned conversation stale.

''At best he'll be as entertaining as Ratcliffe; which I highly doubt; I'm sure you don't know much more either; however much you poked your nose in.''

He smiled again, knowing more than her and gloating in it; leaving her to question why she replied and did not continue with her sulk; but it seemed she was as ever eager to take an exercise in futility.

''Ah; I don't think so, his records are _very_ interesting; whatever I can find of them. It doesn't say much; but the girl he tried attacking is reported to have _''smexydreams'' _every night; and is scared by this fact.''

Linden nodded at this information, scarce able to think of anything to say; although she, and no doubt he had not the slightest clue of what the aforementioned were if he still had staying power it surely meant something; those women of a weaker disposition always felt quite faint at mention of their respective adversaries they never seemed to put much thought into it.

''Alright,'' she finally managed to say, feeling somewhat redundant at its simplicity, ''But what about the girl; how competent was she; it all means nothing if she's brainless.''

Like the princesses, or Queens as they had somehow come to be known; even if they hadn't proved themselves as such they were not allowed to be judged simply on their own merits, but in their positioning of the hierarchy, hence why the Horned King; powerful and with immortal bonds to death was still a mockery to them.

As well as this; they were also correlated to the strength of their heroes; if for example, Gaston had been up against Ariel, who, despite her merits would mots probably been as awestruck by him as the local women, and hunted for him if he was the first she had seen and not Eric; and that was why; when next to kittens, with no real human level of talent or strength Edgar was so weak a villain; as watered down as the tea he drank.

''Average.'' Dion mumbled; not wanting to look as if he was loosing the debate about their possible ally's abilities.

In years gone by average would have been full of charm and grace, and always poised and elegant, ready to sing with larks at dawn; but in more recent times average could only be described as plucky; and were perhaps even more boring in their newly acquired mass than the classic beauties.

''Humph,'' she responded glad of a petty triumph; dead set in belief that the company of Hexxus would be a mind numbing bore.

…

She frowned gravely, still mulling over the news about Melody; poised as she needed to be but still hardly ready for the meeting; which Snow White thought best Ariel herself did not attend.

As she let out a small sigh Mulan walked put her hand on her shoulder and smiled reassuringly; knowing all too well the feeling, despite still being an honorary princess unlike her friend; who only _once _was.

''Pocahontas dear,'' Aurora beamed, more welcoming than she'd expected; ''lovely to see you again, even for such an occasion.''

She allowed herself to smile; and thanked Aurora for the genuine greeting; if more formal than usual.

''We need to talk about Melody; knowing each other's opinions is the only way we can help Ariel.'' She carried on; in a more respectful manner than she'd have expected; and she was thankful she had smothered her inner gossip.

It was a bad habit of hers; but when she grew up with only tricklets of news she quickly learnt to treasure them, disguising the most mundane things as wonderful secrets.

Snow White would not talk about it; stating the other girls knew best, politely declining from debate; not much of an intellectual, the bustle of debate always making her quite skittish; and passing judgement not her niche.

Rapunzel too had declined; her mother; however bad at being one of eighteen years being a villain in truth made the reality of someone's daughter being one even harsher and more vivid; and churned memories and questions best left to lie.

Cinderella however relished the thought of having her views heard, if not agreed with; and spoke with such gusto her word rolled into one, and as such were barely audible; even if they were neatly preened to avoid offence.

''Well; she couldn't tell; I daresay he wasn't hero material; but no-one should judge; oh, but how she grew up too fast; I do feel for them both, really.'' The sentiment was nigh universally agreed with around the group; but not in its reality.

''It doesn't matter whether he looked like a villain; he would have acted like one too,'' Jasmine piped up, nearly kicking herself for hoe her words could match for the earlier days of the Prince formerly known as the beast, before having a subtle glare fired at her from Belle, ''Adam was different; you can tell with villains…''

She felt exhausted already; Jasmine being as fiery as she was never really helped in arguments; even when her intentions were in the right place; and she tried pacifying them.

''Why not invite all the others before we act rashly; I'm sure their opinions are as valid as ours.'' Pocahontas said, hoping they would agree; as Jane Porter and Esmeralda were two of her fastest friends; and Megara could always add life too an event; even if said life was almost always controversial; or as Belle and Mulan preferred to put it; refreshing.

''Yes, darling; but they have no kingdoms to look after.'' Aurora cooed; as if talking to an unintentionally ignorant child; causing most of the other girls to cast apologetic glances at the phrasing.

''Well; most of us aren't_ properly_ royal; and I bet they can do just as well as us.'' Tiana replied; wishing just like her friend Esmeralda was there.

''Yes, well.'' Aurora finished curtly; sore from being looked down upon however briefly, still somewhat fragile underneath her act.

''Just let things settle for now, just before we find all we need to; it's not a great plan but we should not break apart because of this.'' Mulan said, ending both the conversation and the meeting in her eyes; the final word did not have to be hers, hers was just the last she had to hear.

After some more debating, minor bickering and even a laugh or two inappropriately fitted in; she was ready to go back home; whatever that currently meant.

As she walked to the room she had been invited to stay in until she would go she noticed Belle shyly follow her, trying not to be obvious about it.

She looked reluctant, guilty almost before posing a question; one that, knowing her look would be very hard to answer.

''How is Rolfe; is he fine; are you, happier with him now…I really shouldn't be asking; I know, but I had to – I'm sorry,'' she trailed off, looking ready to have a large row with herself then and there or throw her arms around Pocahontas in an embrace of friendship.

''I've heard it all,'' she said, smiling gently; ready to answer the most wounding question to someone she knew she was able to trust with any answer.

''It's different; _he_ is different; but we are happy; I don't know much about Smith anymore; but I would like to.'' So; she told the truth; something Belle would have savoured in the pages of a story but was much harder to live; especially when questions were asked.

She didn't mind her friends asking the questions; but it wasn't only they who asked, and they could not always be perfect; she supposed, so it was quite natural they behaved less ladylike when trying to examine one of her own imperfections.

Truthfully, however, she did not mind about no longer being a princess, although she never truly was one in the first instance; it meant less posing and more freedom; even if her responsibilities did not dissolve with the title.

As she walked into the room she brushed the light make up off her face, recalling how at first it itched and made her sneeze; and even now, being not too much to bear felt somewhat compromising despite enhancing beauty.

She long ago left the face powder and lipsticks well alone; not wanting to look porcelain when she could be far better a woman than a doll; and the lip stick always felt like grease and would come off after severe cases of trial and error.

She remembered John feeling quite perturbed by reading the face powder could be toxic before declaring she had to throw the ghastly things into the sewage where they belonged; much to her amusement, as her _clumsiness_ had ensured all bottles of it were broken.

John Smith had opened her eyes; and she could not deny it; but it seemed with him she was more in love with the act of loving than the man; their love far more epic than her and Rolfe's but her current lover was warmth personified in small, simplistic gestures that would mean the world.

She felt absurdly guilty for leaving Smith; but he had changed, and so had she; she would rather have left the past in its crystallised glory than tried to regain it and only tarred the memories as it failed.

She didn't know how real it was, and she knew it lacked grandiose or even the passion her first love had given her; but she did love Rolfe; and she could not change it, whether or not she was meant to.

She realised she had left many a broken heart in her path; Smith; Nakoma at seeing Kocoum die; and the feeling that if she had agreed to the marriage he would be alive.

''So, how dull was it; I bet the child will have a royal pardon next Wednesday; even if not all will be forgotten soon enough.'' His voice called out in amusement.

Improbable; but assuredly perfect timing, she smiled, it was like him; sadly however, his attempts at wit also were; but right then she didn't have the heart to lecture him on his treatment of Melody, or the will too.

''John,'' she grinned; nigh running into his arms, even without knowing how on Earth he had managed to see her happy that however he did come he was there; she resolved to teasingly berate his comedy at a later date.

''So you did miss me; now, tell me how scintillating was the conversation?'' he jested, but he did find himself respecting most of the women; especially Belle and Cinderella.

''John,'' she shook her head playfully, ''they aren't like that at all; be good and I may have a surprise…'' she smiled; despite not knowing, nor agreeing with most customs knowing perfectly well what the situation called for.

''Now, now; I have a surprise first; it isn't as grand as yours but….'' He trailed off looking delighted and, not as usually entirely with himself; before placing his hand on her shoulder gently and kicking her softly on her cheek.

She smiled tenderly at the small gesture, squeezing his other hand like he was a first school yard infatuation.

The questions were perfectly fine to keep on coming.

…

He was renowned for one thing even by his foes; his utter eloquence; however, despite this undisputable fact; he still could fail to think anything more than ''shit'' when he met his new ally; who he had looked forward to meeting; expecting a sombre; sober man; so unlike the others he was ousted by.

In reality; he was unsure whether Hexxus was going to try taking revenge; planning something entirely different for entertainment value or prance around in skimpy clothing whilst singing a musical number plucked from the thinnest of the air.

He laughed as he saw the king; thinking it an affair of great hilarity such a dull person had freed him; and where he immediate thoughts of any other of his kind would be of revenge; he was simply taking in his surroundings like a fine, if questionable drink; delicious, intoxicating and prone to making a man giddy with humoured insanity.

The horned king was dull; in Hexxus' eyes; and it was the least he could do to _help_ his potential allies….

Less than ten minutes later; the horned king had decided Hexxus was no being to be trusted or to lead a reformation of the hierarchy of villainy; no being even for a sane man's conversation.

''You want me to join you; it's been _years _since I had a good kick – I just hope it's someone else who does the ball games…''He roared with oozing laughter; improbably inappropriate as always; leaving a sore hearted king with the blossoming's of a migraine.

He noted he would like to drag the sentient smog with a clutch of iron claws rather than to use any sensed; of course false, of diplomacy to bring him back; especially as he'd like to keep the conversation as short as possible.

…

Linden had to admit when a bet was lost; and when, in losing that bet, the real fun was uncovered; and, it was in this case; despite her boss's chagrin one of these instances as Hexxus joked and fooled better than three averagely good humoured men put together.

However fun it was to observe by more jovial persons; this was still; however, not his idea of villainy; poised, elegant; and perfectly eloquent to boot – a foe that you would still respect and even perhaps include a modicum of pride for when the inevitable moment they sent you to your grave came.

Despite his one loss; he was quite capable of killing and had ordered many deaths; some political; others that quite deserved the punishment, for deeds of far fouler nature than simply taking over the world; personal things that entered like maggots into the rotting flesh of lives half lived and broken.

In that respect; when compared to the outlaws of the country he ran; he was a twisted, if not entirely irredeemable Robin Hood figure; taking money, positions and yes, when needed lives from those whose lives were part of a tapestry far larger than their personal life span; but if someone was of little consequence he would leave them well alone; never attacking the child on the street with the relish he would a child of an opposing court.

Dear reader; when I said not_ entirely_ irredeemable; I meant in his own eyes; biased as they must assuredly be.

Having enough of Hexxus' droll commentary of his guards; as handpicked as they could be by a failing monarch who in sane circumstance of another world would have died; and of the mockery of him; his saviour and prospective employer he decided to take action.

Leading, of course; to the grave.

He stood up; leaving the airs and graces to his _ally_ and slowly began to walk in his direction; hands begging to somehow strangle the entity; and, with all the fuss of a particularly swift and _nasty_ rat; he did, for a moment before his smog managed to swirl into another form.

''Bloody hell,'' the offended entity drawled, ''I thought you'd never grow a pair; _finally_.''

The horned king could now not tell what annoyed him more; Hexxus' general indifference to the act or how, even when he was not in the upper hand he managed to make a mockery of him.

It was precisely at this moment in time that Melody, shivering like a leaf had arrived far too early; drawn to the unusual raucous like a moth to a flame; and as luck would have it; glanced upon her new boss.

Naturally; as weak a disposition as she did not have; a devilish, decaying thing was strangling the epitome of pollution and she was sleep deprived, surviving only on hope and Poe; both risky things for such late nights; she screamed.

And hell could they hear it.

**Author's Note**

**I'm sorry if this is kind of filler like; but between braces anxiety; feeling like a worthless pile of ugly sauce and math tests; all resulting in a fanf*cking tastic last fortnight have put my writing in the dreaded procrastination corner.**

**I have now decided to post this a day after having a tooth extracted, a day prior to feeling bitter about braces and two days prior to valentine season bitterness.**

**Anyway; I wanted to give Pocahontas a little appreciation in this as she is often tossed aside; and I even tried to make her and John Rolfe seem a cute couple, despite obviously ensuing shipping wars.**

**I'll try expanding on the amount of dialogue given to Hexxus next chapter; as well as giving Melody some more scenes again; and I've already decided the rest of the villains line up; some obvious; some you may [probably] never heard of.**

**Send me a non/Disney villain or a Non-Disney/Disney villain oc and I'll be sure to give them at least a cameo.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Troubles to come and others renewed**

It was glistening provocatively at her; well, at any rate a simple slip of paper; largely unnoticeable and very easy to hide as it was; it was a ton of bricks upon her shoulders when she hadn't even the opportunity to read it; and so she clutched to it like the hand a God would give to her to promise her salvation.

If her name; and thus, the name of her parent's, and their kingdom's could be cleared then the guilt would subside, trickling down into her kingdom's sea until all hint of it was swept to distant shores by the ever ebbing tide.

Her mother could love her again; like she had before their parting and tarnishing; and the rumours around the unsavoury circles would subside and then wither.

All would be well.

It had been, once; and she had not made enough of it; not enclosed it with firm hands and gazed at it lovingly, nor even kept it in her pocket for protection; a thing that would only die with her hope.

Each person she gazed at from her window was, for a second or two indescribably treasured t her; extra's in a fantasy, with their own stories for her to craft; even if she was no writer herself.

Belle would ravenously fill those faces lives with fairy tales, gloriously golden and yet always ideal, never venturing too far from the cautious, uncontroversial side.

But, after a while, the novelty of others who would never know her wore off, and there smiles were little daggers to her, and there frowns proof nought was right in the world.

Without Linden and her promise, sanity would have ebbed too far from her grasp for to even remember what it had felt like; and, whatever the woman's quirks, she felt a wave of gratitude towards her; pushing her onwards, the sly, silken inner voice bidding her to rush to her earlier, show how keen she was for salvation, as if any existing deity would pick her for an ward due to enthusasim alone.

These Silly beliefs, of course; and she knew that far too well for her own good, but surely a path so paved with splendour could only lead to happiness and delight; both of which would come the second she saw Rasputin boil in his own suffering and make hasty, desperate pleas for the devil to pluck him from his pain.

Her eyes grew wider as she thought of this, and on her lips appeared a soft, but steady smile; one that would not fade away as quickly as was the norm, but linger.

Ah, the tale her mind's scribe was weaving, why even Belle could not think of such a thing, and it was a damned shame words to describe the picture she imagined would flutter away she tried to grasp them.

Each scream was so ferocious in its instinctive wail of agony; it would make the enemies of Jasmine's Arabia blush and her own brow moist with fear and worry.

It had every potential to be pitiful, were it not for the man in the vision himself.

She hummed dimly to herself, a half remembered tune that carried as the wind blew, and would finish with the rise of dawn; and already it was burrowing into her mind and burning a hole into it with acidic precision.

The draining sound stopped when a letter, oddly timed came to her, scribed somewhat hastily on ill-fittingly elegant paper.

_Dear Melody, I'm not happy with what's happened to you, and I don't disagree either; I am not one of you, so I can't judge you _[what Melody would never know is that she would, were it not for her stretched sympathy she would slap sense into her if the two met]_. Saying that, I need you to know how I came in touch with your mother when our worlds don't make travel too easy. There is no short answer, sadly. After him stalking and attacking me, I killed [or so I thought] Rasputin by breaking his life source in a vial, given to him by dark forces. As you know, we all survive our seeming deaths, him no exception. Before I killed him, he hacked into my dreams, trying to kill me through them. Because of that, and the fact I was the one to bring his defeat whilst being near to the vial; I know where he is at all times vaguely, not that it is something I wanted to know or care about; as thoughts of revenge on me have died, or at least the actual plans of it; but seeing as he was in an otherworld, and not his usual catacombs or hellish cave I wanted to know he wouldn't hurt anyone else; but, as we all know, he did. I can't help you, Melody, but your parents will forgive you, and someday so will the rest of us, so until then, remember why you are a good guy; and don't turn back from that. Dimitri, my partner does not want you to go near me, and I don't really want to either [no offence] but, since I made life this hard for you, I might as well talk if you really need it, but one time only._

She gingerly stroked the paper, absorbed in disbelief, frozen in time for one crystalline moment; before grimacing at the woman's choice of words, dripping with judgement.

That she was entitled to.

Once more, Melody sighed, unable to think when pressure grew so heavy, yet needing to all the same, glad at least he was permitted to see Anastasia, the second, lesser reason for her despair.

A new idea slid its crafty way into her mind, somehow both snide and elegant.

Anastasia was not the second reason for her downfall; but the first; after all, if her mother had only minimal contact with her, how could the woman be trusted, and with the unhidden disgust towards her…

But what was he; then, surely he was not just nothing to her, surely he was some antagonistic role, even as his character decreased?

He may have been a problem, but he led her to finding out about the lies of those who called themselves heroines, and they needed to be eradicated far more than a gentleman who just happened to realise she was a woman and not her childhood self.

He was not blissful, despite hismanner he was coarse, and brought pain no true love ever could, but true love would be an accessory if Anastasia could be dragged down.

Why did she believe the wretch at first?

He was a reasonable man at worst and showed no signs of murder; and with no trail, let alone his presence after the deed; the reason he had fled being from fear of torture.

Her mind had been fixated on entirely the wrong person; she beamed, turning her blood lusting thoughts to the scribe of the damning letter; to vilify her, lacked only a cover.

Well, now it was of the utmost essence to go to Linden, share the news with her, confide her thoughts and replace the man with the woman who led her to exile.

With a renewed sense of purpose, she strode from her door and out into the open; praying she would know where salvation lay.

…

He was perfectly well informed of the chaos that was now associated with his name to an even higher degree than before, and truth be told, he revelled in it.

He knew he would be left well alone, if he could survive his own death then he was surely to the Lord someone to be feared and trusted only by the very simplest of minds.

With this isolation, whatever he would do as long he was free to do it; especially with no royal pomp surrounding Anastasia and giving her protection and it was blissful to cause some havoc whilst not being in the midst of it himself, or at best on the verge of unimaginable torment.

The girl was a fascinating little entertainment to him, quite the conversationalist until of course, the words were slurred with alcohol, and she turned almost unappealing with her ease, but he would gladly take any that he could.

She was also, he was pleased to note as the first girl after Anastasia's own mother he had bedded was attractive, unlike the crumbling Russian whores who would beg at any man's feet so they could live, however little they wanted being tempest tossed by life.

His obsession with Anastasia – well, he'd dearly like to slice her best parts as she screamed; he caressed her image not from hate but from the pleasure his obsession brought him.

Melody was different; she was willing to her core, and fragile, only abandoning her worries as she abandoned her sense.

There was no chase with her; no way could the predator win for there was no need to be a predator, no offence to the girl; certain attributes were wonderful, and her body was far fresher than the near corpse of the czar's wife more than a night would have bored him.

He would not abstain from contact, she was good enough company for friendship; and to have a royal as an ally was always a good idea.

Seeing her life go down in ruins would be far more satisfactory, and he would have a premium seat; as the orchestrator of her fall from grace.

He didn't know what one night would have brought; but instead if vapid talk with the king and queen before robbing them, he had a naked woman cling to him in a haze of madness, and dragged into a lesser life as the price for her glorious and ample sin.

He knew some weak revenge would bubble in her head; she didn't seem the type to whine out of self-pity, or scream from anything other than pleasure, but as he knew, it would be very diluted, and she could not act upon it in any case, not without an army.

In any other set of circumstances, an army was what he would have got.

…

''Ariel, I know you want to look out for her, but she consented, you can't turn back time so try to live without her; just for now.'' Jasmine pleaded with her, hating the sight of a bawling wreck from who once was not only a friend, but a queen with majesty bettering her own.

She could predict her somewhat angered response to the letter.

''No,'' she said, coughing on the word as if she would scream it if her voice was not so weary; ''no; I can't do that Jasmine, you don't know…''

''How much she means to you.'' She finished for her, trying to conceal any scorn that could escape her voice.

''Ariel, we are all here for you but your daughter needs to be punished.'' She controlled her words carefully, making sure they sounded as calm as the situation would allow.

''For being with a villain?'' Ariel asked with unusual spite; it was easy enough to read between the lines, that Ariel, devoid of sense as she was shaken from such an event, was referring to the letch that was a memory on her lips only so her Aladdin could live like he deserved.

''You know perfectly why I kissed that _bastard_ you're referring to, and I don't think she should be punished for that part – she should be punished for having enjoyed it, the little slut…'' viperous words now twisted from her mouth to her friend's ears before she could have sealed them in her mind; the only, pointless thing to do cover her mouth in shameful guilt.

She did enjoy it, she knew that much; Melody was seen fleeing with him in a drunken fit of laughter and alcoholic power, owning the world as it was shrunk by lack of sobriety.

No doubt the cooks' tongues had been wagging about how they could hear the princess, and if it was their place to inform the monarchs or to keep quiet like their job usually asked of them.

She hated the stereotype usually; trying to get to know her staff as much as possible, but from experience she knew even palace life could turn into monotony, and the slightest thing would send a flurry of excitement, and none quite so much as a good, black hearted scandal.

Jafar's tongue slid down her throat, and unwanted worm; as the heat of his body showed her he wanted more than a simple kiss; her body returning the feeling as her mind imagined the peace after such a vile man died.

Aladdin forgave her quickly, let her into his arms with no hatred or slightest irritance, but she herself wished each day he could be removed from her lips by the exotic balms she used to redden them, or by the sometimes burning food she ate, too much initially for the stomach of her husband, so used to his stale bread.

Melody would never share the way she felt, Melody chose to have herself corrupted, and not just by a kiss neither truthful or of love; but by having her virginity prized from her.

Esmerelda, at first the only other she would confide in, who too had seduced a foe and nearly dearly payed, but not of choice would spit in hatred at Ariel's tainted daughter; she nearly died because a foe was entranced by her body, and saw her mind as that of a witch.

She was frustrated by Pocahontas, Snow, Aurora, Rapunzel and Cinderella's acceptance and quiet mourning, how Belle removed herself from situations where she would be mentioned for fear of arguments, and how Tiana outright refused to talk to any of them until they sorted it out amongst themselves.

Mulan was the only one who agreed, and offered, only somewhat jokingly to find Rasputin's head and give it as a present for Ariel; knowing well, how timid Snow was at any mention of her fighting antic's and she adored how easy the child was to tease.

Yet, as the one who most opposed, and could not do anything about it, she was still the one who held Ariel's hand and reassured her, hating to see her friend waste away by tears that should not have been shed for a child so unworthy of her mother and father's love.

Not knowing how to reconcile this time, she instead threw her arms around Ariel and hugged tight, and was happy to note she returned the favour.

''Ok, each day as it goes, then…'' she sighed flashing a gentle smile towards Jasmine, the constant arguing over her being the tipping point.

She couldn't abandon her child nor is her prayer that Melody would be safe and happy as the circumstances would allow; but Eric needed comfort as well as her, and friendships were needed more than ever.

She didn't give up, just gave in to reality for a while.

Whenever that special shooting star raced her with its presence, however, she would wish only for her daughter.

Jasmine finally found the right words for comfort after her unexpected violence.

''Melody's gone now, I'm just glad Ariel's staying with us.''

….

He grimaced, not only was the Smog- man grating on his nerves more than any being he had ever had the displeasure of meeting, but the reason they were gathered was screaming, and no doubt at him.

Linden had assured him, in her rushed and flustered way, that she was dealt with and was allocated a time far away enough that they could plan ahead for any unexpected – or even, no; _mostly _the expected ones.

Linden looked around her frantically, cheeks turning a raw shade of red at her master's glare, trying to obtain help from Hexxus, before, startled and almost speechless, she quietly whispered to Melody.

''It is not yet Wednesday.''

This, oddly enough, stopped the torrent of screaming flowing from Melody's mouth; and hushed her for a while, before she looked back in bemusement.

''How is Death your master?''

Linden sighed in relief, before realising that although she did not identify him correctly, she identified him as something worse.

She opened her mouth to convince her that her master was a kind and gentle man who had been turned to this form by an evil enchantress or some other likely lies, before he smirked a little, in his way, and showed her his hand so she would stop.

''Perceptive; you are, are you not child?''

He enjoyed this game, far more room for twisting the girl to his cause than if she knew the truth – in itself unlikely with how he was received and recognised; and he was going to have his fun with this idea that the soiled and ever silly child provided him.

''I am indeed he who some may call the Reaper; and I feel you, as the first of those who are 'good' to grace us with your presence deserve a gift.'' His voice glided across his tongue, the lies blossoming in his mouth as he thought to himself the measure of his wit was indeed high.

Linden knew well enough to look earnest and somewhat sweet in front of Melody, but sloppily judged when to look at him with eyes that obviously were full of questions and despair at how clever he thought he was.

Melody herself however, had eyes grown wide, mouth half open, as if she nearly dared ask what this gift may be.

''Ah, do not worry child, I will not slaughter you if that is not your wish – but I do, however believe you came to us in regards to Rasputin, and assuredly that is more important, as Linden will agree.''

She nodded her head, and Melody decided not to talk to him would be the least clever of her options.

''Thank you, sir,'' she stammered, vaguely thinking proper etiquette was an odd thing to observe in front of death himself, and wondering how he could exist with Hades around, ''Yes, but this is something different – he is innocent; I have a letter from Anastasia, it nearly proves she's the real villain in the situation; I just need to know what she's planning…''

The girl became totally absorbed in the topic of this far flung witch Anastasia; and while he could see how and why her mind made hasty reasoning and turned her to the villainess, he could not see why she was blind of the holes in her argument.

This, however was an even better development tan before; much more maniputable than maiming Rasputin, a fellow villain – proclaiming a heroine a villainess, punishing her as one and perhaps even making her so; it was a plan of genius.

Melody wanted the best but provided the plans for the worst, to clever and yet such a dogged fool.

''Child, you have truly graced me with a depth of views to which I agree; the lady Anastasia is evil to her core, as you may have believed me to be; and I am weary for your sake my associate did not also know this.''

Linden's guilt ridden face was, unlike the scorning face of the horned king, not part act, but pure, a puppy with his tail between his legs could not mimic her expression.

''Yes, my Lord. Death does like to share the pearls of wisdom with only those who are deserving- as I, as I am not; hence my ignorance towards this matter.''

Melody found it odd that she was so softly spoken, but judged it only as a sign her manner-watching was more essential than she thought it.

''Now, I'd assume that you would still wish to know of my origin; is that correct?''

As expected, a silent nod from Melody confirmed this.

''Very well; I was in the midst of dragging Facilier to the Justice of hell, when I was interrupted, and brought here. I tried to forge alliances with Hercules and Megara's people, who were more likely than any other to believe my tale, but Hades shunned me as an abomination to the Gods. In my pride I would rather fight than flee him, and though the odds where even; I lost, due to his minions using what skills they had, and ensuring only if one saw me with the same eyes as they saw a hero would I be saved from being the Death God's plaything. One wayward soul saw me, and thought that I was close to that most improbable death; and so tried to revive me with the kiss our world so loves. This thus broke the curse and I was relatively free. Still however, I yearn to bring justice like I always did to the bad, and comfort to the good who were dealt bad lot's in life; and now you can help me and my saviour here.''

He had to say, he was impressed with the world he conjured, and so too seemed the girl; whilst Linden was in a state of shock- but alas, all was too serene, and a certain voice had not been heard.

''Well, then; if you're so high and mighty where's my justice, hmm? You haven't thrown your old robes in the fire, so it just can't be true, sorry to disappoint you all.''

Hexxus arrived still somewhat on cue then, he frowned.

''Excuse our friend; this guest is little more than a pest in truth; but as the yin of nature, I thought he may be a worthy addition to our cause, do you agree?''

Melody of course mumbled something that was a positive response to him, but al Linden could hear was the howl of her stomach as it ached into its pit.

Now she had to play at being a somewhat lover to the personification of death; in front of at least two pairs of eyes that she would rather not have in that situation.

She sighed, before painting a smile worthy of a princess on her lips; she was to act as the Belle in this odd fairy tale, it seemed.

…

Her pulse; her heartbeat nearly drowned out all other noise, but let in that which she would never want to hear.

Being an unwilling hostage was bad enough, but this placed it up a peg from quite negative to extremely life and wellbeing threatening; talk of death, evil and revenge.

And the room was boiling over…..

**Author's notes**

**The first brief mention of the Hexxus oc, yay! Sorry, but it has been so hard coming up with a way to introduce her, also, there is another chapter with Rasputin actually in it, and more bad decisions made by Melody, so this should give you a hint about the tone of the story's ending when it comes.**

**Sorry thrice over for not updated for a month, but it has been a bugger to write until the majority of this came in a day – it's a funny old world, isn't it?**

**In other news, I've learnt a lot about life, how treasured silly conversations can be when one person speaks them to you; how good A very potter musical is and how I will be excited for the twisted musical, when it comes.**

**Also the same old tame old about tumblr friends and how love transforms a man of flaws into the person with greatest wonder, and how I need to write more labyrinth stuff.**

**If you could I'd love a review, also if you could check out my newish quest for Camelot one-shot it would be a huge help; and here are two miscellaneous other links of mine:**

** and fans/gloriouschaos **


	6. Chapter 6

**But****the consequences, oh those Consequences….**

Melody listened intently, absorbed by every word of the fabricated history; Linden's eyes now on the King's at all times, the picture of adoration, sometimes, when stealing glance somewhere else, tense and full of concentrated fear and worry.

''So, sir, how will we get to Anastasia; what will be her punishment for all of this,'' she asked, remembering to talk slowly in front of such a vast presence, before asking the most vital of all questions in her mind, ''has she hurt anyone else?''

She saw many poisonous images flicker through her head, of women whose children were drowned in gutters as they looked on in wailing horror, being met with Anastasia's steely smile and piercing blue eyes, only glistening in approval when sighting pain, or someone gushing about her as if she were someone far more majestic in her virtues.

He nodded, slowly grimacing as he did, a heavy sigh escaping his chest as the Horned king noted with Pride his ability to lie faultless and effortlessly.

''My child; upon my honour I have heard that it was she who separated the monarchs from the others, who are now lower beings despite their riches, pretty playthings as suitable for your friendship as any commoner. It is too almost certain that even Clopin, king of the gypsies' himself has nothing to say of her save her misdeeds, and how sly she was to win a no doubt pitiful man. This foul woman must be stopped, I agree; but first we need you to win Rasputin; no doubt he must think it is he you have been harbouring your vengeance for. Go, reassure him, and bring joyous news before a joyous purge.''

He stopped and thought briefly on how alike he sounded to Frollo, and how, by addressing himself in third person as Satan, the judge was putty in his hands, a shivering thing of strong mind for him to manipulate in his image.

As ever she replied meekly if at all by him; the spark Ariel's child was both famous and infamous for had subsided with the weight of such guilt it seemed, just as her eyes could dim.

What a glorious thing to observe, he smiled; the corruption of a soul.

His hall was lavish; gothic and dark though it was in style, and after some time of silence he noticed her eyes wandered to a covered painting, which, by the looked of intrigue she wanted nothing more than to unveil.

He knew the face beneath it only vaguely, recalling it was some splendidly trite gift he would have liked to throw in the fire where such a insipidly romantic thing belonged a portrait of a young woman by the river in spring.

Whilst he hated the thing; his vague appreciation for art, so lacking in his barren, brutish land he had the misfortune of being bound to rul usually comforted those who had heard of his reputation, and he would comfort them as long as the fools needed to be entertained, and meetings needed to be made.

Besides, whilst the model's bear chest gained a hoot or two from his more churlish guards, who did not know their manners [and would subsequently have his slender fingers around his neck as it was wrung, and the scream echoed around the room; music too their ears] and the pastel colours were far too dainty to be enjoyed; her eyes were another matter.

Her eyes whispered to him this seemingly fragile, orderly woman could cause chaos in her game of flirtation, of wit and of sin, and spoke to him of power, and the flowers she collected were to be crushed into a potion, not given as a present.

Still; he could not tell Melody the small story behind it, so he borrowed from another tale instead; knowing somewhere that Mr Wilde would hardly mind when it was being used in such an interesting manner.

''That, child, is Dorian; once a young fellow whom I called a friend, now drowning in the sins eternal youth have given him for his eternity of pain. Would you like to look on him, Melody; see how his youthful beauty has returned to the canvas where it belongs?''

He loved seeing her squirm, recalling how the plot was stolen from one of the Books that he had been given from a library in Belle's kingdom in what Gaston thought was a cuttingly witty joke; a ''rubbish old book for a rubbished old hack,'' in the man's own words.

Despite the initial urge to throw it in the young, arrogant man's face, his muscles would ensure the pain afterwards would be optimum, and so he read it with more fervour each night as the tale got darker until the epitome of virtue was marred to his core.

Real literature; unlike the simplified, childlike things the _intelligent_ Princess Belle promoted to her people.

It seeped beneath the skin and writhed its way into the bone; just the way he liked his tales, and hoped this chapter of his life would end; with his opposes bowing to a new era on broken limbs that he would laugh at; marionettes before his feet.

He would be no God among mortal men, but the God amongst sorcerers and empowered heathens, far harder with higher reward. He was glad to note this shut her up, before he realised the one obligatory element he added to his story.

Romance.

He sneered at how the word felt in his mind, a foreign ignorant imposter in the organised catacombs he called his mind, far too breezy to be taken seriously, like the special type of carefree joy that unlike biting, gnawing pain would never be remembered.

It was, as he noted, still sadly an obligatory thing, and he had to gain Melody's trust, not send her screaming; like she normally would have done after hearing how he was death; but she had the weakened mind of someone who was experiencing loss, loathing and anguish for the very first time; all equally intoxicating.

''Sir, I,'' Linden stammered, he was obviously not so good an actor when it came to the lover's parts, she was taken aback as his skeletal finger caressed her cheek, his eyes always on Melody, making sure she could see, and thus trust, him.

Whilst Melody was in fact somewhat horrified by the seemingly out of character display, she remembered Rasputin's caresses after she was nearly spent; his endearments just before the world came crashing down around her.

Linden herself felt her skin squirm underneath the corpse's slender finger, before her cheek took another direction and burnt like the eternal flames they had all cast themselves into, and the rest of her body followed suit; before she closed her eyes, brought back to reality by distancing herself from it.

''Thank you, Sir.'' She said to him, her mouth somehow thinking it would be the most appropriate thing to say in the situation, before she quickly realised how ill-fitting it was, earning her a glare.

She knew the thing to add the most realism would be to embrace and kiss him wildly, but a simple touch was far too much of a shock for her to even contemplate ideas like that; especially ones she knew he would despise with each ounce of his being.

His thoughts were far less hazed than the women's on the subject; it was what was necessary; nothing more, and although his bones yearned to have their flesh once again when they found hers, that was the extent of his yearning.

He had hardly been occupied by females, males or any hint of lust; his mind far too focused for his body to stray, despite being urged to ''try a few'' most nations he went to for whatever dull business engaged him then; even he was presented with those who he was ensured were the prettiest, darkest, most willing he was disinterested at best with the subject, and he would engage in it only for his heir, when the time for a bride came.

He never cared about the idea of an heir, either; he would rather his family's rule stop with a memorable king than slowly be conquered because of having an incompetent one.

After his malformation, when he drank a poison the witches of Morva assured him would give him immortality, all thoughts were extinguished; and now, he wold have to surface what fragments of thought he ever acquired on the subject.

He was perfectly happy to manipulate his assistant and throw her back into the world's depths, if that was what she needed to believe it herself, and of course, in her infatuation she would tarnish what he stood for, and be left on the gutter.

His plan was already largely formed; something he took great pride in.

He brushed her hair over her ear, as tenderly as the circumstances allowed, and softly whispered, ''address me however you like; but remember the world will have far more dangers to us if we do not convince the little wretch.''

Of course Linden herself should believe it, but Melody was first priority, and a friendly reminder could not stand against blind infatuation's power, darker than that of any villain.

After his little chat was over, he positively beamed.

''She is such a darling to me…''he cooed, with the eyes of a viper, and the venom in his tone to match.

….

Her senses started to blur; her mind in a haze reminiscent of that you would find in a desert.

Fern gully was meant to be an Eden amongst unworthy mortals, full of nature's true and glorious magic, in every exotic, vibrant flower; in the rare animals, full of power or energy, even those destined to be prey.

Somehow, a cruel joke of ever malevolent fate; it led her to hell.

A hell where Deathly lovers, evil queens [that was what she could discern of Anastasia] regretful, tragic princesses who turned swiftly to vengeance, and smarmy smog, who, truthfully, was the least of her worries but was still worth being documented.

Truly she picked a lovely road to death, did she not?

At least, she tried playing the optimist; usually an ill—fitting role, she had not half the troubles she had heard being discussed, and her regrets paled in comparison.

However, that was part of the problem; she would be dying without even infamy to her name, a blip in a tale far too darkly rich and magnificent to ever include something as dull as her.

She didn't even discern how she was so capable at hiding from them, with her every breath a heavy sigh; but finally, three were gone, Death and his humble, devoted servant, and the girl who the world fell down for.

All in all, her main troubles had gone.

So, she was left with the smarmy smog, not bad for fate to pick out, considering her prior luck and the rest of the cast, and; thinking she should at least die brave, she peered out to look at her surroundings.

A _very, extremely, awful_ idea.

She shivered as she slid back to hide, the floor being colder and unwelcoming even more than before, the heat like that of a corpse before it had the chance to rot into the warmth of a chaos of flies.

The room was furnished much like the table she was hiding under, the first thing she fled to without even thinking how much it was like schoolgirl hide and seek and that her back would slowly curl into hunchbacked pain, or that food or another item may be placed upon the drapes, or that they may have been pulled off.

She was the executor of her own demise, and she as thus deserved all the pain that was coming to her.

She didn't.

Despite being a haze of jet; pollution crafted by ungodly hands into a man's form; he looked more bored than menacing, even with those, big, dark, ''I'm going to kill you and your little dog too'' eyes.

Silent tears moistened her cheeks; it was never, ever, meant to be like this, so much more vicious than mundane; so much more beautiful a loss compared to all the rest….

''Coward,'' the wind outside hissed, ''you deserve this.''

She did….

Her back arched and throbbing in pain, and eyes that, if closed could only wake to a worse fate by the morning, or whenever they found her, as they assuredly would; dead, alive or barely either.

She would not die weak, mocked, or merely an extra in life's play.

If she had to die in such gruesome a manner as she predicted would be her fate; she should have had some free will in the matter; surely?

Her resolve strengthened, and her veins throbbed once more; hissing she was an ignorant, wretched fool; or that her death and torture would break her soul, beginning her not to rise.

Her mind, fickle as it usually was, fluctuating between its two poles of thought had, for once chosen its own course, and one, with however much regret she would have [if she would have time enough to reflect] would not be strayed from.

She slid, arms fumbling with trying to prise the covers in a way that whatever object were on it top would not knock her out first and leave her to awake in a mangled, decapitated state.

She tried not noticing the shaking of her hands, like the tremble of the Earth after a quake sent by the truest evils of the world to turn hopes and lives and futures to crumbled fragments.

Instead she focused on the embroidery of the cloth; a rich red with a simple, but intricate pattern meant solely to be ornate.

When her body finally could, she rose from where she was hidden like she was walking to the plank, as if she nonchalant about the whole affair, and it was doing her no disservice to lead her to her end, her feet walking with steady strength as if up a mountain.

''Hello; you're going to kill me; aren't you,'' she stated silkily, with a slight precocious smile as she said it; knowing whatever answer replied to her it would yield no power, ''we need no pleasantries first; getting it over and done with would be most helpful.''

…

Rasputin knew something at best unorthodox was going to happen, is day had been far too dull, immaculately planned for anything else to happen, and he awaited it with a scowl.

It was, oddly enough, an ally; or so it seemed, but things were never quite so simple.

''Do not ask how I can contact you; or why I choose to whisper to you before trusting you with the knowledge of my image, but know who I am before I deliver to you my decree; I am the Horned king; and your woman presumes me to be death.''

He had heard vague whispers of Hades, Jafar, grimhilde and such, but never of this man; how would he be so strong as to convince her that he was death himself; he would have to be a forgotten, and, as it was not his place to join the real monarchy of villainy, he thus felt some companionship towards him.

''Ah, so, this decree of yours, it is beneficial to me; I should hope…. Ah, yes Melody, what a fine piece of flesh she was, quite exquisite, it would be a shame for her virginity to be lost to other rouges,'' he chuckled darkly, ''I am glad she is no more a girl – how is the pet?''

The horned king smiled; happy he had garnered his interest, as Rasputin would be a key player for the world to be in his palm.

''Ah, so you do care,'' he said, taken aback, a hint of humour in his voice may even have been detected by those who didn't know that he had no place for laughter, and hardly even delicious mockery.

''If I did care about her in that way I would not have left her without promises to return, or some such rubbish the romantics of our world's churn, she is nothing more than a well spent night to me.''

Well, he mused, that would change when he told him of his plan, besides; to woo her he must have had some charm he could draw upon again, and he had found the experience at least enjoyable; so there would be more than one reward for him….

''Well, you must have acted quite the charmer; I doubt women of any sort would go for your natural state. That is precisely what I talk about. I plan to bring balance to us who are considered unworthy, of lesser power and ties to Satan's name. However, in my plan we shall rule, and send those of fame writhing in cruel, remorseless agony. Now, do you not see that as beneficial, my friend?'' He asked, exaggerating every glory that could be given to him, cutting off all the possible defeats.

''there are no rewards for no struggles; tell me, friend,'' he said the word suspiciously, though wanting to keep on his good side, ''how will we get to this ideal of yours?''

''Now, this is what has to do with your wench; you know she has been banished from her kingdom, but we have told her Anastasia is the true evil of your world, and save from Jasmine and Mulan, and only one of them hot-blooded on the matter; she could still have contact with monarchs and nobles; which is why we need her. All you need to help us lead her and the rest into despair that will be glorious to oversee is to pretend; to feign a single, simple matter,'' his voice came nearly to a whisper, for the utter secrecy to intrigue and grip Rasputin.

''What would that one thing be, make haste in telling me.'' He abruptly replied, obviously interested.

''Love; it will come easily as you have lust and she has no idea, being of royal blood not all attraction can be love; so that is a weakness you can use. After a short while, it will not be needed, and she can beg and starve if you wish – perhaps it is better if she does, a woman in tatters would be so sure a symbol for our era. Do you agree will you consent, this offer will never show its head again if you decline.'' He warned.

The scowl on the Russian's face would have been evident even to a blind man, his pause like that if a man searching for the best final words for his victim to hear.

''Fine; but if she does not believe it I will not try to prove it; and any magic in the matter will backfire, as the Jin say to all their more daring masters. I wish to have evidence that you will not discard me as I shall do our princess when the façade is needed no longer; but when you live the life we do, all offers must be grabbed with open arms, amicable intentions and a dagger behind your back for luck; don't you agree?''

The Horned king was delighted that this time the company he kept would be far less than a chattering buffoon who thought himself more; and was convinced he had the world revolving around his perfect and perfectly _sinful _image.

He did not know about Rasputin's place in his final plan, but hoped he would not have to discard a man with such a readily plotting mind; at least immediately.

Hexxus, however, was the antithesis; a burden he would gladly rid of, when he could.

He wondered idly about what Eris, a goddess would be like, and how he could win her whilst balancing the majority of the power himself; a tricky thing indeed.

He hoped, when he did meet her with a stronger band of allies and a plan that would throw the weak wills of the princesses' ideals into the sand she would be unlike Hades, and cut to the point of her plans, that would be executed with precision and panache.

Rasputin too was musing on the position, wondering if he could copy the contrite blandness of the first, eternal prince, a man who seemed made of cardboard.

He then dismissed the notion; remembering Melody's thoughts on the matter of men like those; and how dull she found them to be, not suitable kings at all.

It was odd that he had planned on revenge, and one which didn't include something half as grand as possessing a kingdom; but the notion touched his core and despite coming from the darkness filled him with a light of sorts; that he would rule.

He would have to tread the waters with his balance, subdued from his first greeting with her, but not so much as to arouse suspicion at his sudden change, and, whatever convictions suited his new, polished character he would pursue earnestly with no hint of jest betrayed in his eyes and all viciousness hidden from his smile.

As his hunger was not in that fateful night; he turned into a carnivore in wild rapture, intoxicated, in hindsight briefly by his passion; a non-committal night that he certainly, especially with this new and treasured information did not, could not regret, and never would, for as long as he could laugh a demon's laugh about his deal.

''Well, then,'' he returned, keep to give the conversation closure, ''I assume you agree with me; and that we will both have our parts to play. Until we talk again, and I may see you in the flesh.''

The horned king's plans were already brimming over his mind, buzzing like wasps at their sheer number, and how tightly they were packed together; with all the sting of those insects too boot.

''Until our next enclosure; it has been a real pleasure to speak to an equal; not a mere assistant or frayed and hollow girl, and I am glad you know this game may not be played with cleanliness,'' he paused, again for effect, adoring how he could make suspense shiver up a grown and ruthless mans' spine, ''I leave you with a warning – beware of nature's darker side - he tells the most hideous of jokes in all creation and deserves nothing more than or his mouth to be clamped shut.''

An odd warning, Rasputin thought, as he felt the connection wane, silence approaching fast, to give him a way to pave his plans more intricately; he would rather have expected a warning about how broken birds can be the worst when they struggle or some such to do with his pet but instead he mentioned something impossible and close to humorous, if it could get such a controlled man so irked.

Now, he had to think of new ways to play with his doll; not just the physical passions he thought would be isolated, but the intricate stories she would play with him, until she realised, for all her hope of individuality and strength; she was the most fragile, and weakest of them all.

He shook with pleasure knowing this.

…..

Jasmine smiled widely at her friend, holding her by her shoulders and wishing her luck; knowing Ariel wanted al the help she could muster for her first public appearance since the incident.

Jasmine felt a pang of guilt as she had heard that Eric and Ariel had been arguing over how to treat Melody's absence, but Jasmine could not see any mutual attraction between them anyway and wouldn't mind so much if they drifted apart from each other.

After all, her vile little daughter certainly didn't inherit those qualities from her.

Jasmine never was one to acknowledge Ariel's flaws, although she was more than happy too for most others; but Ariel kept her sane when she wanted to scream at the simpering of the earliest three and Belle was far more concerned with books than socialising, and didn't like her rash attitude anyway.

It came to no surprise she and Tiana were fast friends then, she rolled her eyes, thinking of how dull their conversations would be.

As Ariel stepped from her balcony to address the flock of people she noted it was a world away from the joyous clamour of when she had been crowned, the crowd all a wash of colour and flooded with sound, the side of the human world she long for, and was enamoured with, just as the people were with her, happy to see she engaged with them and treated them as more than taxpayers.

The sight before her was sober and subdued, dull by compassion, with contempt In varying degrees of subtlety on most faces, and pity on those remaining; which expression was worse she could not decide upon her life.

''Jas; what have I done?'' she asked quietly, thinking of how different her life could have been if she had stayed in the sea with her sisters; mundane maybe, but she did miss her home; how couldn't she, even with Eric beside her?

Her friend tried to calm her down, a small smile being the only comfort she could offer as she was just prior to giving her speech.

It was not her fault that her daughter was reckless and cared nothing of her parents, her kingdom or other people, and it was not her fault if she could prevent what was a foregone conclusion – that she would get herself in a trouble too big for her to handle.

''You all know about my daughter, and I must say that I am so, very sorry to you all if we have hurt or offended you,' she said, voice strong, eyes betraying hints of tears, ''but I must ensure you that after darkness there will be joy once more, brighter and better than before; because a country is not measured by its rulers, but by its people, and I know you will not fail your home now.''

A rousing speech indeed, one that merited hollering and clapping, but more because it was the done thing than out of any real stirring of hearts, expressions turned to vapid happiness or fixed as they were before.

Sometime later, she returned to her friend, who gave her a small nod of approval, proving that she was in no way in her mind a failure, whatever family matters occurred.

''See, I was right; you are doing far better now you've forgotten the incident,'' she smiled, trying to fix Ariel's hair as it threatened to become tangled, ''we are the best queens, and we do not need any others voicing unwarranted opinions; I mean Tiana is still stubborn, and the less said about Pocahontas the better…Ariel?''

She had walked away from her, sighing into the air, not wishing her friends to be talked about like that; Jasmine was loyal in her way, but she was stubborn when it came to her opinion of you; it would never really bend or break; even if she wanted it too.

She remembered Aurora's kind and gracious words; when she paused and took time off from gossiping, sharing her thoughts in a way she never could before, but never too controversial, of course; she could be quite profound.

''Thank you for being so lovely when we were enquiring about her, it must have been a chore for you to be so polite but I am ever the gossip,'' she said, not meaning to cause offence even though she had some vague feeling that she might have done anyway, ''darling, just smile like the world can't hurt you, and you are living in your dreams.''

Rapunzel had once made some odd remark about how she thought Aurora rather enjoyed her slumber, and in that short, simple conversation she could see a sense of wistful longing in her eyes, passed over almost as quickly as it came, but with such violet things they betrayed each flicker of emotion.

She knew of the great divide that she – her daughter, she corrected, caused; and it shook her far more than Jasmine; she was the bridge between the generations, and was meant to be impartial to all, although that didn't always work in practise.

She noticed Jasmine was very restricted by the company of other princesses; and scowled at their fragility, however well-intentioned they were, and her and Belle made for at best polite conversation.

She took Jasmine under her wing, seeing a brave, strong, yet unsure and sometimes gentle woman, but her reputation preceded her, and despite Mulan being more than an acquaintance and nowhere near an enemy, she had always, and would always rely on her.

Aah, how the roles reversed….

**Author's Note**

**This chapter has been the easiest one to write yet, perfect considering on Monday I have three tests, but you have to write while you can, because most days, you can't.**

**I really wanted to show that even though I've tried to make the villains more rounded, they are also far more competent and threatening here, which is why I've made them significantly twisted and this story and M one.**

**Also, I was musing on how odd I can be; today my brother got the Nolan verse batman films, and I am now a huge fan after seeing batman begins, however, I also got bought Anastasia – I am odd for loving two so very different things.**

**A bit like my love of celtic music, 80's cheese, musical songs and Nightwish, but there you go.**

**I want to get a little more interactive with my readers, and don't for the love of golly goshness think of that as an innuendo, I may not be innocent but I am only that crude when with friends in privacy and when the conversation focuses, or can be focused on my crush.**

**Pah, what a juvenile word…**

**Anyway, I want to know what you're guys contradictions are, as they are always fun to write in characters, provided of course they are explained; and some recommendations of films/books for me.**

**For you; I recommend rock and rule [delightfully, futuristically weird] Sweeney Todd and Monty python in the film world, and in the books world the noughts and crosses trilogy, as well as the gemma doyle trilogy [I'm on the last book as we speak, gripping and not at all like twilight, as the cover would lead you to believe].**

**I am also a rising young justice/starkid fan!**

**Anyway, I eagerly await a natter [chat to Non Brits, no innuendo here either] and another chapter that seems to write itself, and do that well, for once, not all filler.**


	7. Chapter 7

**The whispers of wills...**

''He's been gone too long,'' she scowled, the situation rubbing her entirely up the wrong way; when most situations were quick to plead with her for mercy lest they cause the slightest annoyance, 'I assumed he would go gallivanting off, Taran would finally fulfil his hopes and he would come limping back, tail between his legs. Why is he still In Prydain; unchallenged?''

This had been bothering her for some time; a small thing out of many; but as his presence became even lesser than before; her suspicion grew; after all that he had shouted at her about the inequalities of his station; and how he had grasped immortality before a single plan had crossed their minds, she thought he would, if on his own unchallenged made more of a scene.

''I don't know,'' her partner replied in honesty; a rare trait for him, ''but I agree it can't be good.''

''So, you have learnt that flattery gets you nowhere – you have taken your time. I am rather sorry however that I am more of an acquaintance to you than Helga of late; your sparring was always so entertaining to watch; especially when she discovered her moralities. It is a shame someone so capable left her place in the world; but so be her delusions.''

It was true Helga had been…. Uncomfortable, to say the least with her newfound; (or regained) lot in life; spending her first, fretful hours lashing out on Rourke as he happily obliged, the two causing bruises and bite-marks in their collision.

Of course, it was a thing that was practically made for spectators.

After the initial time, however, Helga started to crave dignity, to not be something for them to gossip or plot about, and she refused point blank interaction with any apart from Shan yu; who seemed to have the same ideals of honour, both in battle and in and of oneself.

If Rourke had taught her anything, and he had taught her everything, both in and out of combat, it was not to go down without a fight, and so naturally he applied this to himself; fighting her with tongue and fist as she tried breaking from her fate.

Maleficent herself tried to tame her; soothe her with promises never to be realised of untold glory, pride and respect; but regret weighed heavily on her mind; how could it be otherwise when a mere look at her commander, her corrupter, he who was once her everything set her ablaze.

The first time she had wanted to kill, and she couldn't even do it, due to some unspoken law of a God that was as useful as a day more to live granted to a person racked by pain.

So, it was after he was left clutching his wounds, seething and cursing about her that she left, to wherever she could find acceptance, and not wish upon every damn star that she could rewind time and throw him into the dirt the first time she met him; not be lured into his promises of strength, then power; and then riches beyond belief.

Perhaps that was the spark that caused The Horned King, a great, but underused power in their forces, mocked by those more popular to set his own path, damning theirs in the process.

Twice, she had let them, sure in her quietly smug way that they would be exposed to the worst of the world, knowing just the reason they as a group were successful and powerful, as the two withered on their own.

Whilst that could have happened, she was in no mood for a third time; instead throwing threats like daggers to those who dared pose questions, keeping them both loyal and on their toes, knowing the mistress of all evil would not contain her wrath simply for those deemed the heroes and heroines of the world.

It was obvious as he mulled over what to say her name still stung; though more like a dagger than a thorn.

''She'll get what she deserves, Mal; and so will he if he's anything like her. Now; what are we going to do about him, hmm?'' He asked abrasively; thoughts clouded by one name.

''Well, I do not know what to think of your faith, or your abbreviation; but I do suppose that we must do something about it; especially with the Melody situation undoubtedly opening doors for the disreputable. I think the two; or perhaps even the three may be interlinked. When Melody comes back, redeeming herself – as she _will_ try to do, mark my words; we shall watch her and our once gracious king like Hayabusa himself.''

….

In accordance with his triumphant song; he found himself spraying cologne and tying his sash, idle, simple things that prepared him, in a small sort of way, for what was to be the main event of his life.

Normally he would have been infuriated that he was not the one conjuring the plans, but, his ally nigh outright told him that betrayal was to be expected from men like themselves, and that he would far more suspicious if no attempt was made.

In any case; he already had a fine hob; or lovingly, tenderly breaking Melody; with patience, tolerance and a warm, welcome smile.

How glorious it would be to see her lash out onto Anastasia; the woman that shattered his vengeance and chose pain and loss over near instant death, wherein she would be with her family, and who then condemned him to searing, writhing flesh, and agony from Satan's jowls.

For a moment, he had felt that agony, sharp and precise; every regret and misdeed swelling inside him, shuddering as if he were to implode from their dark force; stuffed by his vices.

He was to shower her with the illusion of all things he despised; throw her into war with Anastasia; a savage thing in which bonds would be broken and morals marred; even if their bodies remained without a scratch.

After she had done so much in the name of love; he would do her the one favour he would ever owe; and show her how her actions were guided by hate forged into love's guise.

''Onward we go.'' he chuckled to himself, more than ready to meet with his companion.

Whom was, to say the least; a rather – unusual type of being; in the kindest terms imaginable (which, in hindsight he would most probably utterly detest); but, for all the power it must have taken him to look upon a mirror without being sliced by the falling shards; he somewhat envied the King's countenance.

It was a face to inspire terror, hatred and revulsion in al who met its frosty gaze; and some faint of heart would surely fall by merely observing it; and, he felt a momentary, inexplicable flicker of pride that Melody, his precious little whore, had not been one of those.

''Ah, my friend; I did not expect you to be so punctual; alas, those I have usually been acquainted with are far less respectful.'' The horned king welcomed him, unsure of what to call Rasputin; the finally chosen word, friend, seeming an alien word upon his tongue.

''I would not disappoint you so upon our first real meeting, my comrade; but I would know about my love; the reason for our meeting, and path to our deceit.''

He grimaced; unsure of how to introduce the two in an amicable way without giving away Rasputin's lie; he knew, of course from Melody's being thrown from her kingdom that he was a brilliant creator of deceit, but he still feared the worst.

After all, in her state Melody may start to weep at the sight of her ''unintentional'' betrayer, and if he could not soothe her, she could rave at the prospect of the Downfall of Anastasia.

Of course, in time they would hone in on this, her truest of desires, and warp their actions so it looked the world was in her favour, but first Rasputin had to establish himself as both an ally and a lover in such difficult times, a rock which could shatter all her ills.

''Of course, she is with my assistant, Linden; as we are to be brothers in the same game; my friend, though in my case the woman is as a willing actress as I the creator of our scheme. You must brace yourself, answer as any prince would to woo and charm, let not a fragment of the truth slip from your mouth; or their will be grave consequences for us all,'' he sated, as if calmly planning a mundane business venture; which, he was doing, in his way, ''_Do not forget your pretence_.''

This final line, hissed as it was sent chills down Rasputin's spine, reminding him of the dark forces that clutched at his fragmented, decayed mockery of a soul he had bartered to them before.

He had truly found a brother in the world.

If this sibling was not one by the blood coursing through his veins, they were joined by the blood that would be on their hands and tarnished reputations after Melody was but a shell.

He was going to love breaking her.

….

The horned king strolled back to his assistant, making fractured, idle talk with a woman she would never otherwise have even seen in the flesh; struggling to find topics to talk about that would not turn her companion into a brooding mess.

Talk of royalty was also a no; having not been born into what was dubbed respectable society, she would alienate herself immediately, leaving Melody effectively talking to a brick wall, and even if she were well versed in politics, gowns and other such noble things, Melody was cast aside from such, and it would be wise not to dig old memories.

''So; what do you think of Prydain?'' she tried asking, cheerily enough, though the tone was quite a plastic one.

''Oh,'' melody replied somewhat awkwardly, ''you've asked me that before, remember; I don't think my opinion's changed much in the last few minutes, but thank you for asking anyway.''

If the reply was one of viperous sarcasm, she would surely have beaten her in any possible way; but it was evident Linden only amused her, and was, thank Gods no annoyance.

''I trust my _darling_ hasn't bored you?'' He asked Melody, his words painting the perfect portrait of hypocrisy.

''If she has…'' he added, trying to make a small joke of the implication; with Melody even laughing a small chuckle, eyes fixated on his darling as he mocked her, piercing through her with an effectiveness no dagger could match, however skilled.

The memory of his touch burned against her skin; the small cut his talons had left stinging as if bathed in acid as she remembered his sudden, off guard affection for her, which, in the end scared her more than any punishment or threat he had handed to her before.

Her flesh seemed tinged with an imminent death, promised if she did not properly observe his mood and tread the waters carefully with his each plan and emotion.

She raised her own hand to her cheek; to check that it was not corroding into one mirroring his own, and for a moment she was more shocked than relieved to once again find slender fingers of flesh there; where before only bone had stroked her, with damning affection.

''I hope not, Sir; must we lead her anywhere?''

She cringed as she realised she was not replying to him with more adoration in his voice, and his eyes flickered with a silent rage she knew better than to let brew into something yet more ferocious.

She stepped awkwardly over, wishing she had the allure of Jasmine in her most infamous hour, when kissing Jafar to save Aladdin and her kingdom, instead stumbling, finding the siren an ill-fitting role to her.

Finally, she was within centimetres of him, his breath, warm and constant melding with the frantic beat of her heart into a hellish noise, before she placed a tentative hand on his arm.

She shivered at his lack of flesh, feeling only shards of skin and bone; even finding dried remnants of blood in between, her stomach reeled at the touch; her skin turned as pale as that of a deplorable phantom; all trace of life and energy gone from her skin.

''I am sorry that I seem so cold to you, my Lord, but I did not know how to show my affections to you in front of our guests whilst retaining propriety – but if it displeases you, my love; it is a mistake I shall not make again. ''She simpered, finding sweetness a far easier act than seduction.

''No act of yours could displease me, you have done far too well for that.'' he paused; his voice being a more chilling thing in its newfound, previously foreign softness; another thing that told her to recoil from him.

He smiled; and whilst it would be on any other creature a warm, comforting thing, goose pimples covered her skin because of it, and it took every skill she could muster not to flinch in horror.

When he scowled, he was hideous, but in a predictable sort of way; a way where he was to be the villain of a story, as he was obviously made to be; and it assured his opponent that they would win, as heroes in fairy tales always do to some degree.

As a boss; he was far more predictable than his plans were; each trait was preserved within each piece of bone that showed; he was a monstrous man who played the part with such conviction, after initial fear; you turned to calm, for even he himself knew his ultimate place.

She admitted; it was this obvious darkness that had intrigued her since youth; and though time and time again he wished she could at least be attracted to complexity; the rotting of souls from god to evil; the tragedy within those who inflicted it, it never was so elegant.

It was the lure of pitch darkness.

So seductive in how it was the greatest possible taboo; she would crave it if it wouldn't kill her.

In time, she grew up; and whilst she was merciless in small ways, especially with determination in jobs, she never found such a rich darkness, merely one that was truly pitiful to her.

That's why she was fascinated by him, initially; although the company certainly didn't make the job any worse, especially when she learnt about so many worlds only because her co-workers had, for one reason or another, abandoned them.

But when something as untainted as a smile was tarnished by his use of it; that was when predictability, even safety of a sort, were thrown out the window.

He was, in this new countenance more frightening before, in the same way that makes china dolls so unnerving to some.

He was unnatural; and yet, with a simple mimicry; all fixed roles were gone, revealing true insanity underneath.

His smile flickered again; he knew this as a truth and relished it, and how Melody would think it was a gesture of sweetness, and everything else he was created to despise.

He was, he smiled once more; eyes shimmering with pride in himself, to show a further kindness to Melody; cementing the fact that even death could have a heart.

The fool.

Still; people who had nothing to believe in would believe anything, for a while at least.

He gingerly stroked his assistant's hand, seeing the trace of a grimace on her face as he did so; basking in how he disgusted her.

Then, the picture of a living contradiction; he went in to kiss her on her lips, knowing he would leave a bitter taste within her mouth for years to come as he did so, pressing his skeletal hand against her cheek as she looked at him with helpless, fearing eyes, unable to lash at him or scream as she would have, instead drowning in pure revulsion for the situation, choking on the lips she returned the kiss to.

''Oh, should I leave you…?'' Melody inquired; somewhat embarrassed by the display, not knowing why her cheeks were flushed though she had done far worse.

''Oh, no; it's fine, we were just,'' Linden said, happy to have the focus thrown off of who exactly was pressing against her lips, before she realised he may have had other plans, grotesque as they could be, ''that is, if you wish…''

''Ah, my love; we do have matters to attend to,'' he said, bracing himself for the reunion of Rasputin and Melody, prepared for every outcome.

He then leaned closer to Linden once more, and whispered, lowly and at a volume most would strain to detect, let alone properly hear, ''you have done well.''

That, all in all, was precisely what she was afraid of.

They edged out of the room; preparing for the worst as they came ever closer to Rasputin; not entirely whether Melody could take one more lie, or if it would be the straw to break the camel's back.

As they entered, she listened intently, praying something; however small large or otherwise it was would be merciful enough to distract the thoughts bounding around her head, warping her mind.

Instead, there was silence.

It, rather inconveniently left her alone with her thoughts, vicious creatures with no measurable trace of sanity and to whom mercy was the ugliest of words.

She would have preferred them to duet ''when you're evil'' at this point in time.

Then, miraculously breaking the infernal lack of happenings, Rasputin rose from where he lurked before; teasing a shocked, though not horrified gasp from Melody.

So, she thought, internal sarcasm firmly switched on despite the severity of her situation, it was a certainty Melody was feeling as gullible as ever, making their job even easier.

Their.

How could she ever think of them as a ''their'' after that…

They were, to be sure, never a team in any real sense, but he reeked of ulterior motives, making his intentions perfectly clear; and the obligation she once felt to him was as tainted as her thoughts on the matter.

She could not flee from him; she had too much to lose, and when it chose to be mundane, she liked the way her life had worked out, save a few things, even if it wasn't a pious or even agreeable life.

She would see this Melody plot through if it tortured her, and at least it would be a dramatic way to die, not shrouded in obscurity; shrivelling her name and legacy to a writhing, decaying body soon to be forgotten.

To do that, she would sacrifice many things; happiness, sanity and safety alike

''Melody, my love; I came as quickly as I heard, if Anastasia had not...'' he ran to her, playing his part well, flustered and somewhat erratic as he did so, before Melody cut him off.

''It's fine,'' She sighed, unusually monosyllabic, trying to avoid any unsavoury conversation, pushing aside all further unsavoury situations as far from her as possible, I just don't know how you can help; my kingdom, my _family_,'' she choked, close to tears, ''hate us; and we can't change that for a very long time, if we even can at all.''

''Darling, anyone who hates you has the brain of a fly; and together we shall spit on what Anastasia calls her legacy, and regain the trust you never deserved to lose.'' He said, impassioned; nearly forcing some applause from the horned king.

Melody opened her mouth to say something in protest, but ended up being silent, leading a concerned Rasputin to embrace her and reassure her that, ''all will be fine…''

…

''Thank you; all of you for joining me; I just want us to help her, without pressuring her like the others; Jasmine seems controlling towards her, and now we all know of Ariel and Eric's new relations.'' She addressed the women before her, tired of having to tell them bad news; afraid that no good would come, masking it perfectly underneath her strength.

It deeply unsettled her that Eric had been reported to argue with her, she thought their bond was far stronger than to be broken by fickle arguments, however hypocritical that sounded in light of her own position, and she thought he would anchor her in tough times.

She could see Esmeralda trying to conceal a scowl and prayed there would be no shattering of friendships between them as she sighed and asked her what the matter was.

''I can see you want to help her, but she has to help herself first; and she has never wanted our help, not even yours for the most part. We have struggles of our own, people to help and to heal, we cannot help someone who would not acknowledge it.''

It was true that, whilst they held power over their lands they lived in; they had far less opportunity and wealth than those deemed princesses, and often being an icon was not enough.

In fact, this had spurned some jealousy when Jane joined their ranks as she lived with far less others, and would have to share between herself, her father; Tarzan, animals and the very occasional other human being, as opposed to thousands who needed food, shelter and rights.

''I know, but we must help her; if you would help any of us, then surely you should any and every other?'' she instantly regretted her choice of words, wincing at how she made it sound that they were below them.

''I don't think it is her fault, she needs help and guidance, of course, but by someone she sees fit, and she isn't going too with us – remember how she was one of the first to suggest your expulsion?''

She remembered well, Ariel disliked anyone who was not set in stone with their true love, although she accepted Jasmine well enough after a small rough patch; and it did hurt that she was no longer a true part of them because of love, the very thing they stood for.

''Let's not be hasty, I'm sure she can sort her own way out through this, she is as strong as the rest of us. Still, I do think we should sort out problems of our calibre first, after all; all of us have our trails, and apart from you of course, no outside support.'' Jane explained, sounding guilty as she did so.

''No, you're right,'' she said wearily, ''let's focus on what _our_ kingdoms need.''

Suddenly, she was rather loudly interrupted by the door swinging open and then shut in seconds flat – revealing one of the missing members.

''Great, I'm late again,'' she moaned, slumping on the nearest seat afterwards, ''sorry; you know how it is…anyway, Kida and Amelia can't make it, they said something about a meeting, I think; I couldn't understand half of it...'' Megara certainly looked – like Megara, it was refreshing to see someone so untroubled for a change, especially after the scars of her first love that she supposed Hercules smoothed.

Nancy and Nani never came anyway; Nani's kingdom did not for some reason or another give her nay powers, and she refused to believe any of them were more than a dream, and Nancy did not know the customs of her own kingdom, and as such would not be forced into the politics of others.

Children, as they were in body even if not in mind were not needed, and with such a shortage of members any loss was greatly felt.

''Well, Megara; you're probably just what we need here, I honestly don't think anyone can really be an optimist nowadays, but at least they try to have some spark,'' she chattered away, glad to see her friend, ''Oh, I'm..'' she tried composing herself, remembering her task at hand.

''Don't worry,'' Esmeralda smiled, ''it's good to see you a little brighter, things always seem to take their toll on you…I think we might need a little balance for today, though.''

She was well aware she did things deeply and thus seriously, and that she was seen as far too dull by some, but things absorbed her terribly, with or without her doing; and it was nice to see something else could break through.

She hadn't been able to break through before Rolfe, ever holding to the past, but he showed her while the present could be an entirely different matter, that regrets (which, sometimes she did have) were useless, and it was something that should be loved.

''Right, well; we must first rack our brains to divide our knowledge, and then we can have entertainment; dancing perhaps,'' she smiled, knowing how well that would go down with the rather clumsy Miss Porter and, sure enough seeing her slightly panicked and pleading look made her stifle a giggle, ''Or perhaps we may be more merciful and talk over wine?''

''Well; I'll sit through this gladly now, just for the love of Gods make sure I'm still sober.'' Megara joked.

''It has been a while since we've talked about anything other than disaster, hasn't it; hmm, I think I'll gladly await some lighter stuff – I'm sure someone her has messed something up comically, rather than life threateningly.'' Esmeralda added.

''Oh, you must come over to our jungle in that case; the animals are more than happy to oblige you with embarrassments.'' Jane responded dryly.

At that moment, she beamed, seeing them as friends rather than protectors; and though she still dearly loved Nakoma, it was hard to be with even her without a nod being paid to her responsibilities.

She wished they could eternally banter lightly and joyously; but just as she had learnt nothing was certain, nothing was forever either.

….

''Well; you are taking your time, aren't you; if you intend to harm me in any way, which I more than believe you do you would do well to put whatever your foul intentions are into effect right now.''

If she could see herself, she may have laughed at the small spectacle she was making, being, of all things, irritated by her survival instead of falling to the floor in praise of whatever gracious being saved her.

In her heart she would still know that she would prefer the swift, clean stab of the knife, however much blood was shed and whatever it stained to a painfuln torture that would drag until her last howl, tears wet from sobs and lungs dry from screaming.

How dearly he wanted to feast upon the fear evident in her eyes, shaking her frame that was so pitifully, almost laughably trying to be strong and sturdy; he wished he could devour it slowly and lick his lips after such a glorious feast, full up from gorging on such a delight.

Alas, that way was the Horned King's way through and through, and though he was no imbecile and had, for his own sake, of course accepted his offer he was determined to be himself through his villainy, not become a dreadfully dull, disengaging minion, with all the wit and odour of a pig that was shunned from the pen at conception for utter stupidity.

Instead he tried his tactic of delicious in; oozing dangerous charm through every word, truly enticing the girl to a toxic love; as he proclaimed he summoned for all who heard and saw him (narcissism was of course something the fully prided himself on) and he wished that he could find a more comfortable way to enjoy the reaction.

''Sorry to disappoint, love; but my field of expertise is nature and I somehow don't think I could pollute you – although, if you're up for trying…''

She could not have guessed she'd even entertain the thought of slapping him across the face for blatant… _something_ism, but that was a very minor thing on the list of rather completely impossible things she had seen; ad it did not seem that mauling her alive was part of his ism, for which she was eternally grateful.

He wasn't the only thing that she would have screamed at if not for self-preservation, she reminded herself, thinking instead of the ghastly death and his eerie voice, concealing pleasure each time he told of pain.

It would be sunshine and roses then, no doubt.

**Author's Notes**

**I feel very mixed about this, I think the Disney villain bit is awful filler, I like my writing of the horned king/linden kiss, if not its continuity; I feel very half and half about the princesses interaction, and the same way about the ending; but ah, well, I guess…. **


	8. Chapter 8

**_Why indeed..._**

_Why._

Why, she asked herself, infuriated at how ignorantly she had acted, taking in Jasmine's every word and feasting upon it as an unquestionable truth, turned gullible by desperation; just like she had before fleeing to the sea witch who had cemented her fate.

She used to feel, as odd as it sounded, some obligation to Ursula; after all, without going to her, whilst her life and the lives of countless others would not be put in danger; she would never have learnt how to love; nor appreciate her father by learning how he felt by rearing Melody – one of the people she loved most and could not even speak of.

True, her sisters were divided, some thinking her romantic, other feeling abandoned by both her and her father; feeling incomparable to his favourite, something which they would both come to realise and regret.

After she had risked everything for him, she had let a friend who was not even that to her, considering how snake like her tongue became when referring to who was, despite all events that made others wish the contrary, her damned daughter!

She had arguments with Eric over how to rule, when she had never even glimpsed politics before, such vague and daunting notions held by her father in Atlantica; and even how to live.

She had even argued over cutlery, finding any and everything grating on her fragmented nerves.

Even after her speech, the royals were still not entirely trusted; and word had leaked out that their relations had strained, and it was word that was meant to be kept firmly silent by the few who had knowledge of it.

She didn't suspect Jasmine of selling or gossiping about it, but her presence was not helping, adding conflict to a home that was in need of repairing and yet constantly afflicted with rifts.

Her people looked at her with pitying eyes at best, and in her sadness about what had happened to Chillon, once the jewel of all the kingdoms, united more than any other with the sea, and with glorious land that she had long ago become enamoured with, she turned to desperation.

''Eric,'' she said, finally mustering the courage needed to approach him with an apology for something she didn't even half remember, ''I'm sorry we argued last night,'' she did not mention all other nights, as she thought somehow that would only increase the tension, ''I love you, but it's just, things have gotten difficult and I might have forgotten that. I still gave everything for you, and you know I still would in a heartbeat, we should just work together from now on, not against each other, especially now – I'm sorry I doubted you, honey.''

She said each line with conviction and truth, and yet her words seemed vapid and meaningless when she reflected on them, perhaps; just as Eric's bags under his eyes suggested, the damage was already done, perhaps even irreversible.

''Ariel, the problem isn't you; it's Jasmine – she always looked up to you, and now she thinks she knows you well enough to know what's best for the both of us; I know she's your friend and I don't hate her, but you two need some time away from each other. Melody is my daughter too, dear; and as much as it hurts, we have to acknowledge that, and acknowledge her. You wouldn't give me up, whatever happened; I say it's about time we do that for our daughter.''

She almost protested halfway through his speech, before she realised the truth of it.

How, though was she to gently, kindly ask Jasmine to leave her be; she had, after all given her a backbone in her time of weakness and helped her address the crowds, whatever unintentional bad she brought with it.

Still, she said, determined fr once to see her opinion through before wavering, Eric was right, she had given up so much for him, and hardly anything for her daughter, when in comparison, she'd be giving up nothing at all.

True, friendships might be more strained, but Pocahontas had survived as an amicable outcast; all she would miss was ruling the kingdom, and although she confessed she did not know them as she would like to, she was positive her people could make a fine democracy out of their home if needs were.

How was she to find any trace of Melody; she asked herself, before vaguely, but still happily recalling something about her being located in Prydain, not a great kingdom, but one which was perfect for those who did not wish to be seen; the regular occurrence of little strife's had hardened it's residents and made them more than capable of fighting against larger threats, so she would at least learn to defend herself.

She was to contact Captain Amelia, leader of the more ambiguous of the kingdom's, or as she preferred to dub them, planets to see if any less than savoury characters were latching onto Melody's troubles, and if any people less linear in morals would help her in the quest she was not too sure she was even allowed to undertake.

…

Linden stared into her master's eyes, trying to find hints of what had been there before, a quiet menace not of the burning, lecherous sort that seemed to taint her own when she looked at him.

Alas, it was to no avail at all that she prayed for this, as they seemed t girw more predatory each time she looked, and, fixated as her eyes were, she could not turn away to ignore them.

His smile too seemed more jagged, teeth like sharks, ready to devour her soul and mind.

She had to suffer this all with a smile of her own, that, in turn had to look truthful and gracious, the picture of innocent adoration, like Queen Snow when she had met her Prince.

She could not even speak silly words for a proper distraction, instead nodding politely to each sentiment, behaving herself more than the true princess did, with courtesy and manners she wished to throw into the dirt.

She wished, more than she had wished a thing In the world, to break free of the shackles of her smile, to be able to flee with no consequence, but she had work, work she buried herself in to hide the thoughts she never wanted at nights, thoughts she thought amusing till they became truth, and all glory faded away into primal fear.

How much more primal would it be to tear and run for her life, she wondered, as he observed her intently making sure her veneer was not to waver, no doubt already concocting a dire plan for if it dared to slip in the slightest manner.

As Rasputin and his lover continued their embrace, he the picture of concern, she the portrait of ever grateful love she wondered if her king was to ask her to do a similar thing, or to stretch out the short and laboured conversation.

Thankfully, he chose to do that latter; hawk like eyes still fixed on her.

''Child, what Rasputin here says is the truth; I believe you are of such great courage and strength that you can conquer this where all others, helpless in their fragility would fail. Still, we must assure this is truth, and not just our dearest, fondest hope; the one way to do this is to join our forces with others who would gladly take down this oppressor. You have met Hexxus, that much I know,'' he said his name as if it were a poison, hating he the great and terrible true monarch of Prydain, far fitter to rule than two squabbling, half-witted children had to call upon such a blight to the name of his cause, more interested in dreadful quip than in exacting a glorious apocalypse, and watching its plagues unfold on all the wretched who would claw at his knees for mercy.

He could picture his beloved vision in less than a moment's notice, seeing the torn flesh and dress of Cinderella here, hearing the pitiful pleas of Quasimodo, the half formed maggot who was despite his own hatred of his master and father figure Frollo, admittedly aptly named.

The two he would most like to see suffer were not the two who were his downfall, they had suffered enough by being thrust into the world's realities, nor was it Melody; the ones that would be bliss to see writhe were Quasimodo and Jasmine.

Quasimodo for he had been born into the life of villainy, and yet his ignorance gave him not only false, unwarranted optimism, but had nearly made him kill the only parental figure he had.

Jasmine was a similar case; she had tasted the power and the freedom of villainy as soon as she kissed Jafar's lips and, despite Aladdin always making haste to say the contrary, if reports were to be believed she enjoyed it.

Some even said, that in the first dark and sultry night she had done her duty as Princess to her beloved Aladdin, she had instead cried, impassioned and sweltering the name of her vizier, longing for the heat and lust the darkness would always be able to claim in contrast to the weak, pitiful heroism of the light, so easily corruptible.

If she had, for the good of her rat and her father both actually agreed to his offer, their combined fire and attitudes would have made them an impenetrable force for all to bow down to and take note of grovelling to their demands, if , of course, Jafar's stupidity did not lead her to kill him first.

She had abandoned it all for a rat and a buffoon, and the chance to sing watery sings to a love she found her belief in faltering.

He hated wasted opportunities more than anything else.

He finally remembered himself, and after his long pause resumed his conversation, though thankfully for the rather shell-shocked Linden, he had forgotten to glare at her.

''Our next ally that we hope to gain is a woman by the name of Eris; she was trying to secure the book of peace for her city, of Syracuse, before the pirate Sinbad stole it from her grasp; being a friend of the prince however, he got away cot free with it, and she sound the ruin that afterwards occurred to her beloved home pitiable. When she wondered what had possessed Prince Proteous, the once noble man to turn his back on his kingdom for such a selfish reason, she found that Anastasia had seduced him, and after that cast her spells so he would become ignorant, and do all that was her will. Seeing the Prince like this made her even more distraught, till Anastasia made his doctors declare her mind unstable.'' He loved how well he told the tale, arrogantly thinking it was better than reality, for how would he make a Goddess' alliance plausible?

He had to toe the line, not give her too many improbabilities at once, and if she became suspicious, miraculously Rasputin would soothe her, till she was never again to know the difference between con and reality, if she had in the first instance.

Still, he was glad of the information, however fragmented he had gained on her, so he could warp a plausible story at least, before she came to them; the next leader of their mission for tainted honour.

There was no question about her allegiance being If.

''Eris,'' she mused, recognising the name from one of the less banal of her lessons from the days when she was part of propriety, ''what a curse to be named like that; how could she ever have a happy life?''

She vowed, silently as that vow was that she would take this broken woman under her wing; and that, if they could, she would strive for their friendship.

As much as Rasputin's presence warmed her, she needed more than his love, she needed a rock that would get her out of her troubles, not remind her day and night of the reason they began, and the journey to better days was one that should never be taken alone.

''I agree we should need this poor woman to bring justice finally to the duchess,'' he sneered, hatred for Anastasia the most evident thing his eyes had ever shown; very nearly offering a glimpse of the blood he would like her to spill through his vicious expression, ''but let us speak of joy; my friend, I am so grateful that because of you I can now see my beloved; so, I ask this humbly, may we be given leave a few hours to talk about our most pressing matters?''

The horned king smiled, happy that he was so eager to commence his plan, and wondering how well he would woo if he produced such and illusion of charm, when they both knew his real thoughts.

''Rasputin,'' Melody spoke up, voice wavering a little, ''I'm than grateful too, of course I am but we really need to sort this out before anything else, my whole kingdom would be falling part – I promise, when this is over I will be more than Ariel ever was to my dad, but I just can't afford time off this.'' She behaved quite apologetic, but there was an underlying hint of annoyance at his instance at playing the romantic in a dire time.

This irked them both no end though they tried hard to conceal their displeasure, searching for things to say in return to calm her and to make her do as they wished.

''Anastasia does not think we have the strength to try oppose her, she is not suspecting us and our defences can wait a while, go, seek what you deserve child,'' his irritation at her seeped through his niceties, nearly causing him to curse himself, ''besides, I must look at all the causalities she and her evils have caused; and, even for a woman as bright as yourself, your disposition is not of the sort to stomach such deplorable pains.''

She was not as gullible as it first seemed, he grimaced, her putty like qualities being the only thing endearing her to him in any way, and it was precisely at the wrong moment she decided to question them, the damnable whore she was.

''I'm sorry,'' she protested, ''but I can't go; if they're in that much pain I should help; and my disposition is not weak, I defeated Morgana; I mean, that must count for something; I'm not a child now….''

Damn her to the depths of Satan's lair, she was developing the qualities of an earlier Ariel, or perhaps resurfacing things buried by her grief, he did not know how, and it was evident neither did Rasputin, but they had to silence her, to lull her into pretty ignorance again.

Suddenly, without warning, she fell; fainted perhaps, until she was left looking lifeless.

He suspected this was Rasputin's doing, and he was right, as he always prided himself in being.

The dark powers were to have sent him into Hades when the talisman was broken and Anastasia defeated him, but as some grotesque miracle, he was still in his body, not ripped from limb to limb; the magic he had used so often sustained him, still leaving him some left; diluted and simple, but dark magic nonetheless, and something he would forever prize.

Seeing that she was unconscious, they tossed aside all pretences, speaking plainly, and Linden was glad to find she no longer had to stare lovingly into his wretched eyes.

''I am glad the bitch is slumbering now; she forgot her mind and now it appears when only ignorance is needed!'' he shouted, while it was true her intelligence had been a novelty and quite attractive, and in other circumstances would have made her fit to be a friend if not a partner; at any rate more than a one night stand, her submission was pivotal, and her wit need not be extinguished altogether if her manners were merely subdued, but she would not have his loving her, ungrateful daughter of a succubae as she was.

''As am I, but do not worry, you can play at being saviour, she will accept it if you carry her home from such a dreadful fall.'' the Horned king stated plainly, not one to pepper his language with swear words, profanities ill suiting his tongue.

''And then?'' Rasputin enquired, wanting to do his duty whatever it was thoroughly, even if it meant insipid flowers and serenades, as it would prove its worth eventually.

''Do what you did your first night,'' he said, alluding to their sex; ''it seems from the moans of pleasure that her servants could hear the next day you serviced her well enough, and you seem to like the deed, so it shall be an incentive for you.''

Rasputin was pacified, at least for a while; oh, he would suffer comforting her if the comfort was that each night, hearing her whimper in pleasure as he caressed her body, far more worthy of being his than any other he had made love to; even after her brief foray away from legs, if he had her to hold, to embrace, she would be a girlish, grating doll, but to corrupt anew as she begged for her damnation she would be a woman he would delight in devouring.

Linden blushed despite herself, turning crimson, and almost whispering a sorry to Melody's sleeping form; which looked far too serene for her to have heard a word.

Woman to woman, she wanted to tell her to run, and run away with her; so she could escape the big bad wolf's big, bad, inviting jaws; but she would never have the courage to speak, The horned king held far too much power over her for her to dare even hint in the smallest of ways,

He made her flesh crawl with words and smiles; and made her feel nauseous and violated with that deplorable kiss, if it was called that instead of a mockery of one; and she knew her punishment for talking would be far worse than any torture.

She imagined him, commanding, dark and terrifying instructing her to strip in a murderous voice, as he put those bony hands of his to use around her, and her skin was infested with bugs, and how she would cry and beg for him to stop, and when he did she would kiss his feet even more to avoid that fate or worse again.

She could never be called courageous, and she hated herself for it.

When she thought of raising her voice higher, exerting force, standing her ground, those hideous, horrendous thoughts came crawling back to her, making her flesh throb with loathing, and she would silence herself again.

''Well,'' the horned king continued, abrasive, ''I am sure you can continue with that course of action quite soon, can you not? Be off with you then.'' He waved him away, and though this was said with the greatest disrespect in his voice neither of them particularly cared about niceties, and expected no lavish treatment as an ally, as they were both villains.

''Very well.'' Rasputin replied, equally abruptly, before asking, ''where is it that I should carry her to, I know nothing of her home, and she will know that well enough, and if she stays here she may be reminded of her previous rebellion.''

The King tried to find what to say about this, wavering in his plan, before making a decision he hoped was none too hasty.

''My assistant knows the way to her home, she has been there first hand to make sure she would enter here, tell her that she called upon you seeing her in this state; that should pacify the wench more than enough.''

Yet another betrayal, she sighed, the vision staying in her mind like someone had bolted it in place there and darkening her mood even further.

''Yes, I can see how that would be the best course of action; but first, I must know your assistant's name; I cannot sound impersonal if I must learn to sound impassioned, can I?'' He told him.

Huh, Linden smiled wryly; he hadn't even said her name, so much for the act of loving her; still, even she had to admit that, in the majority of instances Melody was more than gullible enough.

It was she who actually replied him, disgusted that it took her very boss, as he would be called if he was not a lecherous, power man skeleton who she was bound by her own twisted sense of pride to work for so long to recall the simple fact of her name; though no doubt she was but a speck in his great vision.

''Linden, my name is Linden; if I'm allowed to speak right now.'' She said dryly, feeling a glare either side, noting that even stating something so bloody simple she was bound to piss off someone.

''Girl,'' he hissed, ''you should do well to remember to play your part as immersivly as the rest of us, and if not; I have good enough reason. Don't think I do not know your thoughts, and always suspect I know your fears. If you do as I say, there will be rewards down the line, if you fail I will tap into your nightmares quicker than a child would flee from a mortuary.''

She wanted, against everything to snap back with venom in her voice; to tell him he too was forgetting his place, to belittle her and forget her damned name, and that her worst fears were already coming into play, but she knew above all else that his threats were not, and never would be empty.

Instead she sew her lips shut tight, hatred quietly burning inside her, flushing her cheeks with anger and loathing, still a shade that delicate ladies would adopt in the company of enthusiastic men.

''What's the matter, darling,'' he questioned with a jovial tone, lapsing back into his faux persona, ''If you want your worst nightmares come true…don't shiver, idiot; I'll not fuck you, wretch.''

Well, she noted, she had got on his bad side, an easy thing for any, before remembering he'd swore, something that sounded such a stark contrast to his usual ethereal and eerie tones.

She had _really_ gotten on his bad side.

…

She was growing suspicious as to where the others were, why they had gone; if they had at all, and a plethora of other things; she would far rather have something physically there to be terrified of than let her mind wander in all sorts of harrowing directions, as she supposed it was more than safe to assume it would.

''Where are they?'' she asked, resigning herself to the fact the being in front of her was going to think all she said was gobbledegook; positively nutty, before asking herself why on Erath it mattered to her.

The simple answer, to the second, internal question was because she was nutty.

The other answer took a long time to be found, as Hexxus, rather fond of the limelight did not want even for the others to be referred too; the weak willed princess, the insane assistant, the faux lover whose accent ted on him; and last, but the one who annoyed him most; the Lich of a king who not only pretended to be death, but had a sense of humour as barren as the desert.

''They've pissed off to wherever they needed to, love, and you should be glad you've seen the back of them; such hideous bores they are; and don't you think we should have gotten to the business of Names, eh?''

Ah, she could sense his rich laughter as she produced her meagre offering, half certain his name would be of a demon or a God; entirely certain hers would be a flimsy thing when compared.

She was, however, going to say it like it was a name proud, strong and true; more than a metaphorical name tag to remind her just how far away from anything she was whenever it was alluded to.

''I am Kate, no doubt you're something far more marvellous and terrible; but I am not in the mood for you to go laughing off at my poor name, it didn't choose itself, you know.''

While he found it an odd name, he found it odder still that she didn't know his it was obvious from how she shook like a leaf that she had heard most, if not all of the conversation – ah, he remembered, frowning, the horned king thought it best to call him ''you'' in slithering tones, his name too peasant like for a king to utter; and, in any case, she would have been rather self-absorbed, with crippling fear and whatnot.

''I am Hexxus; so abhorrent of you to have missed my name in all that haze of panic, but for you, I'll forgive; something I am usually not inclined to do.''

Ah, he was bringing up that blasted fear business again, something she was trying to bury; it clung to her pores like a hideous stench and gripped on to dear life, yes; but she'd rather be optimistic, for once; while she had the cause to be, after all, she was shown mercy by a smog monster man, with a name that such a man would use.

In actual fact, it was more horrendous, in her opinion that he was vaguely flirtatious and any attempt, however stellar to tell him to shove off would go on deaf ears in a best case scenario, and in a worst case scenario find herself suffocating to death.

Ah, the blisses of an improbable life.

She was, in hindsight glad she hadn't seen that death fellow, after all, it would probably mean, for a mere mortal like her in any case, an equivalent of ''time's up'' and she would, as more of a wuss than she'd like to admit and less honourable than she'd thought herself, prefer to be alive, even with Hexxus, who was, if irritating at times less deplorable than anything her own imagination could come up with.

…

She felt far too secretive , talking to Amelia behind the others backs like she was; but she was doing it for a reason, and she knew in her circumstances even Jasmine would do the same or similar for their flesh and blood.

''I just want to see if you know anyone,'' she struggled for a word, to say villainous would be tyranny to their principles, and she was most certainly not looking for her daughter to get tangled up with those sorts of people again, but she certainly needed someone who could stomach the job, and knew enough about her foes to deal with them, ''ambiguous, I need help to see just who Mel could be dealing with and, I'm not actually allowed to see her, so…''

Amelia, despite upholding valour above all else would answer to Ariel's pleas as best as she could, though it was quite hard to have deep, insightful conversation with her own children running amok.

''Quiet, all of you,'' she raised her voice above the din, ''now, you are to act shipshape for our guest, is that quite clear?''

Her children knew her well enough for there to be a chorus of yes mother in reply, with only one stumbling to answer back.

''Samantha dearest; you know we must run our home like my glorious ship herself, and so you all must follow your captain, and anyways, your Uncle Jim only comes over if you are all,'' she looked over semi playfully, semi accusingly to her smallest son, ''behaved. Why don't you run along to your father for one of his stories; I'm sure you don't want to hear these two old biddies blabbering on now. Delbert, dear; we have a guest, could you…'' Yes.'' He called out near immediately; doting as she was to her children, and would always be she was still as organised as possible, and after regretting the alternative a few times before decided they be ushered off into play.

Although at nearing 11 for the majority of them; their collective sigh masked a thrill at hearing stories of their unofficial Uncle Jim, and perhaps even his stay in Syracuse; which was cloaked in such mystery they all loved hearing what little of it was disclosed.

Privately, to her she was sure he had just said he had his first, and worst, since he planned it to be his only, hangover there; and while Marina and Sinbad were happy to share their knowledge of more traditional ships and monsters they'd encounter while they were at the docks for one of their visits to his best friend, Proteous himself got on well with him, it seemed.

Summers always were rife with dramatics, weren't they, she smiled; and she supposed it would be taken to the extreme with Jim if nothing else, and whatever had happened she was still happy it had left him with a beam.

''Now, where were we; you must forgive them, all darlings and yet still all chatter and play fights. Yes, well, I can offer you no key political players, but I'm sure there are a few I can suggest, hmm, let's see…Galtron, a crew member on the ship of Cale….'''

She listed a few, mostly unpronounceable names with nothing too consequential to say, before she had an epiphany.

''Ah; another bright young thing; Nyx, tutored by Audrey when she visited us here; she was a budding inventor, sadly she operated on a great deal of black markets, and always upset some official with her insistence of talking to less savoury types, though she herself was none too bad if a little egotistical at times. Ah, blast,'' she exclaimed, evidently wishing she was of more help, 'from what I can gather she was wandering around kingdoms, trying to sell her bits and pieces, greatly unhappy with the law systems around here and peace prospects. Someone has reported she tried going to Hawaii; where Nani and Lilo live, and they don't exactly accept anything over there , so I don't know what shape she's in, if that is the case.''

Ariel decided, as the only one with a name she could say vaguely accurately, with practise, and with her moral greyness being of a sort she wouldn't have to expect backstabbing, she was the one Ariel would seek; wherever she was; after all, it was a person at stake, a person she gave life too; and a person worth protecting, even if others could not see it.

**Author's Note **

**I feel equally divided about this chapter, it doesn't have as many weird errors as the other one did, and when I have time, I will go through the other chappie's with a fine toothed comb for them. The Proteous Jim relationship, though only a hint can be interpreted in any way you wish. I hope I brought Ariel and Melody closer to their original characters in this; sure they're in a bad situation, but they should still seem like them; also I hope I fleshed out Linden a bit more the past two chapters, she was a little too much like Melody at the start for my taste, so I tried remedying that.**

**Oh, and nightmaster000, this is a very brief intro to you oc, so hopefully I'l write Nyx in the next chapter properly, with dialogue, backstory ex cetera...**


	9. Chapter 9

**An original claim**

She was not suited for it, Ariel decided, shaking her head; her life was filled with riches of some sort from her birth; and, unlike her daughter, she didn't feel trapped by them; adoring the comforts they provided; she was never a commoner, even when she could not speak she was in the Prince's care, not that of humble man or woman; and she would seem rather the mermaid out of sea when talking to Nani and Lilo, to create a rather unusual metaphor.

She had no doubt they would be likeable, but Nani's reception to the idea of multiple, connected worlds was hardly describable in polite terms, despite the fact she had seen plenty of aliens.

Ariel did suppose that everyone had their limitations for odd stories, though.

Naturally, Amelia told her that her fears were all poppycock; and then promptly handed her odd, but apparently suitable clothes (she wondered if Mulan felt the same way when she put on men's trousers, bulky as hers were in comparison to the light jeans she wore) wished her luck and threw her into the belly of the beast.

She knocked on the door, fiddling with her hair as she often did when feeling embarrassed; to see Nani open it, flustered, but in no awful mood.

That, she hoped was a good sign.

''Look, I don't want to join your weird cult – oh,'' she sighed, though not out of desperation, ''sorry; the last few people we had around here were pretty loco; said they were royalty, like the government would let that happen, still they let aliens….oh, sorry; I'm rambling, come in, I hope this isn't about Lilo; if she's broken anything I can't pay for it you know…''

She walked into the house; noticing how bright and cluttered it was; and how it was mercifully far cooler than anywhere outside; which was not so much the harbourer of a sun kissed day as a sun cooked one.

''I was actually just looking to see if you know anyone called Nyx ; but it's fine if you don't…''

Nani looked relieved at hearing that, ''Well, she's not as weird as she used to be – she's probably with Lilo, though; so I'll be the one to interrupt them; for your sake…''

Ariel was slightly bemused at this; after all; was not every activity of friendship good, gracious and sweet?

Evidently, she learnt; surprised; it was not_ friendship_ that concerned them.

Nani seemed to get defensive when she noticed the look on Ariel's face; far too many had come to gawp; especially the teenage dumbheads, Lilo had to hang around with in high school.

''Don't like it; then don't see us, alright?'' she hissed.

''Oh no,'' Ariel replied, wide eyed, 'I'm not used to it, is all; so, I may have to talk to all three of you now, well, so be it – and, umm, please, try to be understanding…''

The girl in front of her; who had eyed the teenaged girl, who; from what she had heard had to be Lilo lovingly and protectively looked at her with less reverence and tolerance than of dirt on the bottom of a shoe.

''I know who you are; accuse me of anything or even think about telling the rest of your insipid tea party friends and Melody cans it; got that?''

Well; whether she was a woman or oddly dressed man; she was certainly to rude for her to wish upon any other girl.

''The fact is, Melody already has ''canned it'' and I need you to help me figure out who she could be dealing with; if you have a scrap of decency within you you'll know how much I want to help my daughter.''

Nani and Lilo both had nothing, respectively, to do with any of the conversation; at least that was spoken aloud, and so, both, in unison asked; ''who the heck is the redhead, Nyx?''

''That redhead is nothing to do with any of us, and everything to do with my weirdo phase; the one where I said you were an ''official'', remember?'' though she was reminiscing, there was no warmth or irony in her voice, only simple agitation.

''I know about your daughter, Ariel; and I think it's no business of either of us what she does in her spare time; she should never have been banished, but she is, and you have to live with that; I've just found myself a proper life and I'm not gonna lose it because of some honour I don't give a crapola about.''

Timing was always handled rather well, Ariel had to admit; in dire situations, and it was because of this happy fact that a blonde tourist, near enough to his mid-thirties burst in with some shopping, smiling and calling to Nani.

Evidently he was more than the average tourist, she thought.

''Miguel; do you know someone called Ariel; because if you do, she's freaking us out.''

Miguel?

That certainly was odd; Ariel had only heard the name, never seen the face, but she had been told, through various, shocked hushed whispers that he was in a relationship with another man; and even if he was not; she knew for a fact that Nani was involved with a man called David.

As ever, the man himself really had no clue what was going on; but if he could survive pretending to be a God, experimental aliens and Tulio's mood swings then he could survive just about anything, and Nani was adorable when she was confused, as long as, like in the instance he was as of then thrust into, she was not ragingly angry.

Ah well, she was still quite adorable anyway.

…

Her eyes fluttered open reluctantly as she savoured the warmth and comfort of her sheets, and nearly called out a hasty thank you to the maids before realising her position.

Instead of waking to a lavish, intricate room; she awoke in a homely one, luckily with oddly ample space; something for which she would be eternally grateful, and a collection of books and ornaments to rival that of any palace crammed into it.

It's sparse furnishings worked to its advantage; the covers on the bed being fit for any royalty; the pillows lighter than air plucked graciously from heaven; and she could smell the faint aroma of bread; baked perhaps the night before; which she had no recollection of, incidentally.

As she regained a lulled consciousness; she saw the face of Rasputin, her precious condemner, who she would save from his own condemnation.

She had a vague feeling that he had been argued with; as he looked rather worn and tired; and she vowed she would help him, as long as that did not include the evil powers her country clearly (and, she thought, rather bizarrely) expected of him.

''Ah, so you have woken, my love – do you not question why you are here; and where here is?'' despite the small, uncostly spells he had put on her, he had suspected her to be more inquiring, but he was nevertheless glad of her ignorance.

''Well; this isn't a bad place, I men I trust you enough that you wouldn't put me anywhere horrible, right? It's actually better than my new house, thanks; but I guess I'd like to know where it is, if this isn't your own place…''

She rather loved the little place, despite being very little acquainted with it; and, even if she could not go as far to say; with a unhindered certainty, that she loved the man – he was far too haggard to be a prince charming, and, whether villain or nobility, he had a darker streak in him that could be detected a mile off – it was a place she felt inclined to love, and to spend all possible time with; a capsule of comfort for posterity.

''You seemed to be charmed already by its mystery – why mar it with a name – well, alright, Котёнок; this is the Copper Hound – the owners have left us much to our own devices; and so, it is up to you, my majesty; to decree what they may be…''

A feeling seemed to writher within her skin; even behind words of sugar powdered warmth; spoken, as far as she could tell quite sincerely.

She knew, somehow that they had argued; but he seemed no worse for the wear; and she could only remember a nightmare; not vivid, like most were; including those of Morgana tearing her family limb from limb, but dull; hushed, incapable of harming even her mind – shapes of death flickering so fast she could not comprehend why they could ever be fearsome.

''Well; I haven't seen much of Prydain since I've got here,'' she piped up; remembering her old penchant for exploration; realising just how little of a life she had, tucked away into her cave of a house as she had to be….as she **_had_** to be.

''But I need to lie low…''She sighed; noting the sympathy flickering across his eyes.

''Ah; that I agree with – but the old princess would he had some fire in her belly; ventured out at any cost – are you still that princess; or has a trifling rule changed you.'' There was iced, unmasked under his tone; but she was glad of hearing something honest; if not something kind, for once.

''Well; even if I am the old princess; the old princess used to get her sorry ass in trouble – and I've run away from it; apart from in a nightmare or two…''

That was what she thought of her time with them; he noted, and knew that it was for the better; if she had come to a conclusion that was unsavoury to their plans once before; the inconsistencies of information could only hinder and weaken them further.

''I trust there is little to see; my dear, and your language is far too foul to soil that mouth of yours (this he said in truth; he wanted a marionette of a partner who was at least pretty and respectable) but I can solve your other problem – when they denounced me as a villain; there were reasons for it; I never hurt anyone, I only tried to heal and to enlighten, but alas, no one takes magic as a force of good; even when it plainly is one; especially Last Duchesses who want their fanatical followers not to leave in wonderment of enchantments.''

She listened, wide eyed as he told her of it; not realising for a moment how she was enthralled for the first time since her merging of sea and land, feeling rather guilty for being able to sympathise with those who deemed him evil; even as she noted he was not – he still looked and sounded evil, and some glimpses out of the corners of his eyes were spine chilling...

Still; she could not believe such trivial matters were things that condemned a man to her parents; and he was a fine enough man for her to trust in the first instance, was he not?

''I know this sounds odd; but,'' she gulped, a little embarrassed, ''could you teach me – magic, I mean – it could sort this whole mess out – actually; have you tried that?'' she asked, excitement sizzling through her veins; carving new hope.

Once again, she was innocently wiser than she knew, to ask such a question – one which he had not thought of providing an answer to; he thought; and it was another time to draw another pretty, petty lie; to hold back his true nature; his gloriously vile temptations and truths that lay hidden; set them free like doves of chaos into the open air to run amok.

''Anastasia has weakened my power considerably; and it is with great regret that I cannot help your kingdom; however, if you would be so willing as a student; I would be glad to teach you as I know.''

He could teach her parlour tricks at no great sacrifice, he mused; and if ever she became to insufferably saccharine, he could violate her by hooking her onto the rich, intoxicating darker arts; which, after but a droplet of a taste the strongest man would crave for all eternity.

He could forget his allegiance (though of course he did not) the lies and constraints would be worth it to see her break and bend at the fickle will of he who called himself her lover; and she would enjoy it; he would make damn sure of that, at least.

''Thank you.'' She smiled, placing her young hand on his withered one without fright.

Were it another story entirely; she would have gently, but firmly clasped onto it; as if she would not let go of it even if the world in its entirety decreed that she must; and as for him, why, he too would smile; genuine and warm; and a bond would blossom from a faint caress of finger upon finger; perhaps, in days or months or years or seconds, it would transform miraculously into an impassioned kiss; that was to happily define their life forever.

However, it was no simplistically romantic folktale that connected the two together; it was a web of lies; which, oddly enough never produced the same lovers.

Oh, it did produce them.

Bitter ones; acrid from disappointment and cheating, never fully trusting, and so never fully healing; broken at the hands of ill-fated days or years; leading to an oft ill-fated life.

He was quite, if quietly annoyed that she did not leap into his arms or embrace him; to give him something solid to work with or at least assure her that she could be mindless enough so as not to be too hard to deal with; but; ton take a more optimistic route; it was at least a start.

It was rather ironic that he had, in a conversation partner for a night who was rather willingly a partner for some entirely different business he liked the fact she had brains and used them; but a conversation partner and a project were two different things; with different requirements.

Mind you, he supposed that the more like herself she started, the more rewarding her fall, inevitable as it was, would be.

Based upon these facts and opinions, he compiled, in his mind at least; a list of all the traits she would need when she became his wife; after all, she could not always be merely a partner – in their fickle world only marriage would cement love; and afterwards, well; they were too simple to dispute a man's intentions if his pretty little thing had two rings.

She would need these:

Looks: he himself was not normally a vain man; save the odd dash of cologne or sash on rare occasions when he felt obliged to make more than the standard effort, but he was not dull; and realised that a pretty face got you far better off in life than a studious looking homely one – and he would rather like to observe such beauty in his sparse spare time, as he had previously done in lavish collections of art. Luckily, at least for him; this was the one area she was guaranteed a pass with flying colours in.

Conversational skills or silence: It would be abrasive; but in the end whatever he had told himself he would rather she not talk idly of trifling things; lest he immediately throw her to the elements. Failing that of course, silence would also be most excellent; so she could be his mute china girl; the face of despair for all her kin; and a face that could remain painted gorgeously under any scars – and he promised himself, rather giddily that he would give her plenty for her to test her skill with.

An absurd amount of investment in her hopes: He found this a most universal thing; merely part of being at all human, and if he could promise her tantalising things; even if only that she could, for a fleeting moment touch what she thought was doomed to be an impossibility. He could get her addicted to the despair and amazement, and as he did (for he was perhaps arrogantly sure he could not fail) he would laugh more than any man before him ever could.

''It would be my pleasure to teach you.'' He told her honestly, drifting back to his unwitting pawn, who thought she was escaping being controlled when the precision and meanness he displayed would be far worse than her parents; who would allow her as much leverage as reason would allow.

He stroked her jet hair as she sat nearer next to him, and her dreams turned far away, ever more absent minded.

She couldn't say, with real conviction that she loved him; but nor could she say with real conviction, that she was entirely opposed to the idea of loving him, either.

She didn't find him despicable in that first meeting; nor so overtly charming she would salivate at the idea of being with him for mere seconds; but though he was said to have used her and she knew that if that was true, it was mutual usage, as she had no real intentions of innocence either, he deserved the chance for her attention and affection both, and coincidentally; he was tugging at them in perfect unison; if not with perfection.

There could be worse men to love; if ever she loved him or them; she smiled contentedly, and like was all she could hope for in a sea of the most dreadful snobs constantly branded with the word potential; and at any rate, like was better than hate.

This too, was not definite – things never are- but she was very willing to bet she would never hate him; nor he her.

…

She was left alone with him; not even with Hexxus' jovial arrogance and raucous mannerisms to annoy him and, for precious moments take some weight off her mind.

He did not; after his outburst say a word; but she could neither define herself of grateful or even more anxious because of it; unable to comprehend which was the worse or lesser of two evils – a biting gap of words, chilling even her marrow; or vicious words sharp; hacking and effective as any butchers knife.

She thought of how Rasputin cursed as he dragged the wretched body of Melody to some unsuspicious place; no doubt where his magic, meagre as it had been made from his over usage would be enough of an incentive for all others to move away and do as they were told by him.

She looked serene in her sleep; blissfully unaware; and seemingly untroubled by impossible nightmares that Linden would have bet her right hand were savaging her mind; courtesy of the silly, slippery lies she was force fed, and regrettably; to some at least, unwilling to digest fully.

If she had one hope for the princess; which, of course she did; it was that she would not go down as easily as Rasputin would have liked; that there would be some resilience, determination or intelligence before the final, fatal blow was delivered.

She was outraged that the Horned King had insulted her like that for only a comment, but she could've expected worse from him; she supposed.

With no extra; more important noise; she was sure she could hear not only the mumblings of their ally who had so uncanny a knack for being an annoyance to him; but a new vice seemed to have emerged.

There was a sacrifice then, she mused.

With no way of getting out of her usual arrangements; she would have to make due with letting her frustrations out through sharp words and blades, with the blows of each.

Curtly, she placed whomever the voice belonged to on the pyre.

''Thank you for your prior comment; sir, but we have far more to discuss – like, for instance, someone who isn't meant to be here being with Hexxus.''

He grew evidently displeased by this; as it meant, above all else that he had to check up on the most infuriating man he ever had the misfortune of dealing with, but, however much he distrusted his assistant; he still had to enquire about her suspicions, which even with his less than stellar hearing, he had to admit he was beginning to share.

''Hexxus,' 'He drawled out; in a cuttingly accusatory manner, ''I know there is someone with you – bring them to our attention or our whole alliance will be sacrificed, for one wretched maggot who dare writhe from his place – will you be the downfall not only of yourself and the fool you re harbouring; but be hated and reviled at each corner, from monarch and meddler both?''

It was a rousing threat; Linden thought, intending never to voice that controversial opinion, after his reaction to the fact she had any opinion at all was completely drastic and vile.

If it were possible; she'd have killed him; but as he could only be injured; and he would only crave vengeance to be thrust upon her; she stayed with him; her only potential, or at least viable vengeance a silent defiance, that she only could hope would one day turn deadly to boot.

''What shall we do if he does not respond?'' she asked coolly; hoping that a question so mundane would have no way to seen as trouble making.

He had no idea; but was infinitely too proud to admit it so he just gave her a look that, while neither blood curdling nor dashing displayed perfectly (or so he thought) that the particular plan then was for his brilliant mind alone to know; perhaps not even for such a lesser mind to in time find out.

She sighed heavily; thankful that at least she was not being preyed upon; thought of all the marvellous ways she could erase his self-assured egocentrism in her miraculous dream worlds, and reluctantly once more found herself asking a banal question.

''Fine; just answer me with your eyes then – but we need to know what we'll do with whoever he's harbouring; if it's someone disposable then,' she gestured, running a finger along her neck, before making an awkward gurgling noise, ''If not; perhaps we could use them for our own advantage, rather than torture.''

That had been the one tactic of choice, and she doubted he would abandon his favourite way.

Any ally was good to have, for _them_.

But, for her; she had created her own agenda – make The Horned King look as devious as possible, whilst playing the victim herself; so this new person would try help her; and either she would reign in a time of chaos instead of her partner, or she would see him being tortured; and smile gleefully like Rattigan whenever he created another despicable trap for Basil; his favourite foe.

If whoever this new person was; they were as bad as or worse than her current employer (hell would have to freeze over first for that damnable second option) she would deal with them accordingly.

Accordingly being in that scenario; where to gain such judgement she would only need know them for a few hours; or so she expected, she would kick ten kinds of hell out of them until the strength, will and anything that would set them out from the common ten a penny mook was forced out of their sorry systems with the blood they would lose at an alarming rate.

Usually, she was rather cool, when she had reason to be angry; but if she needed a punching bag, she would not just punch, she would slice and maim and batter; and all whilst making hardly a sound, and nary a comment.

''Deal with them as you see fit,'' He sighed; his mind in some other darkened alleyway that she suspected most would shudder to think about; thankfully miles away from the angered, lecherous threats that he would forget and yet use once more.

'After this; you take whomever is with him, and I'll attend to the more important matter.''

The more important matters of course being those concerned with Rasputin and the plan he seemed so damn enamoured with.

She walked onwards to him; the soft mumbles turning into obvious conversation; which was obviously going to incriminate the two parties involved.

At this, the two listening in smiled; Linden for the relief that came with knowing she could fashion a perfect little pawn of her own, and the Horned King grinning from ear to ear in a crazed manner at the thought of punishing his most damnable torturer.

She took the honour of turning the brass doorknob, to open the door to the two; evidently shocked.

She tried to look over just whom she was dealing with; to her dismay the girl looked like she was from a disbelieving realm, which was far less than handy, and she could only discern the things anyone could discern from the most common and mundane of their fellow man.

Her dull brown hair was in a wild mess, put up only half-heartedly, limping on occasion to odd sides and her eyes were a vague green; neither of them conveyed any hints of personality; though judging from the badly matched together clothes; each piece from buried fashions and an insipidly vivid colour, she could say with quite some safety that the girl was an eccentric.

About this, her feelings were very much divided.

Kate; the girl being observed was very much uncaring of the physical features of Linden; her anxious gaze passing her over completely for her far more worrying companion; a companion who happened to look great deal like Death.

Of course, after much listening along to cringe worthy puns that she classed (though having little to no Knowledge of Sigmund) as quite Freudian she found that he was in fact a very irritable, high and mighty villain; who had tried making a pact with him and was not even grateful of his acceptance.

At hearing this she felt a little more disturbed by Hexxus; even more than usual; after all, if he was all that bad, why would someone mostly benevolent join with him?

On seeing the Horned King; if he was not in a state of catharsis her first instinct would be to shout very loudly at the smog she thought she had, at least to a degree, befriended and then ran like mad.

Oh joy of joys, Linden thought; another oblivious one – if she was nearly as submissive as Melody (who was, she had to remind herself once reprimanded for rebellion) she may well treat the vapid girl as an enemy anyway.

She still smiled.

Well; surely either way, she could have her fun; could she not?

…

It had been leaked out that Ariel had left her kingdom to follow a possible lead on ''a sorcerer who hypnotised Melody'', but even the innocent knew what utter tosh that was.

She had left a note, skimmed over by the prince, who was happy to say he would join her in debate as she returned, and would leave the Kingdom under capable hands after he would leave a second time with her.

The citizens should have been infuriated, but taxes were not going up; children had to be fed and under Eric's empathetic plans educated; and all was for common folk at least untroubled.

The only one troubled by it was Jasmine; she gave Ariel breathing space, and , after little rows admitted, though sulkily to Aladdin that she was wrong to be so hard on her, but to abandon her people..

It sent her flying into outrage.

Were her people not deserving of having their needs put first, or anywhere at all?

Well, if Ariel couldn't run her own kingdom, she'd be more than hapoy to pull a few strings.

**Author's Note**

**Yay for more evil Jasmine – no to lack of updates; sadly exams have been getting in the way; but I promise after the end of June I will have a blast at updating.**

**Nyx will come more into play; Miguel and Nani's relationship will be defined (I thought they'd be cute, ok?) Ariel will not be very welcomed, Melody will be sarcastic, flirty, fiery and oh, yeah, deceived, Linden will be darker than ever, Hexxus and Kate wil; have consequences for being busted, and the Horned King and Rasputin will be as disturbing as ever….**


	10. Chapter 10

**Strings attached **

She twirled her fingers, before pressing them to her mouth to stop the oncoming yawn, then twirling them flippantly in the air once more.

Aladdin was out, of course he was out, handling diplomacy as he did, in his funny, sweetheart way; thrusting bread and water to the poor's eager mouths, providing tactics for officials and of course, embodying royalty.

She was an accessory.

An accessory who had once escaped; then learnt she knew nothing, and went straight back in to old life with a shiny new toy.

The toy was broken.

She still had her throne.

Her throne of pillows, where she could pet her tiger like it was a puppy.

She also could pet her husband, when he saw fit; and thus was far less like jewellery, more active from behind the scenes.

That was how she had ''obtained the alliance'', in official terms, with Eric's little kingdom.

Of course, they had never been enemies, so justifiably a few people were confused, but it wasn't as hard as you would imagine satisfying such weak curiosity, and she could hardly tell them that she really was manipulating Eric with magic.

Not manipulating, dirty, horrible word; with rats scurrying at its feet.

She was suggesting management propositions, and they always would be approved; as certain as the sun, rising in the East.

Agrabah was of course better by miles than a quaint, small; overall inanely dull little naval country, but it was a game, it was a practise, and it was a backup; for in case the lovely Ariel had silly ideas.

Besides, it couldn't be all that boring.

After all, Ursula had fun playing with Eric's head; a sponge for all magic, or so it would seem, as did Morgana; and villains always made a story more fun, even if they weren't always as obvious as stories would have them.

Not that the heroes were obvious either.

The black sands were another project of hers; more so the sorcerer who lived in them after all Mozenrath could teach her so much about magic, and she would love to promise him what he most desired, only to tear it from his nose.

Before he tried tearing it, in his own way, from hers.

She'd taken back seat on enough adventures, booing and cheering and laughing and kissing in all the right places, just like she had before.

Those games were awful.

Her new games were grand.

Sooner or later, it would be out with the old, in with the new in entirety – she would exclaim that she saw Aladdin try to murder a guard (successfully inuring a witness, of course) he would be beheaded, and she would wrap their adorations around a new prince soon enough.

Then, she'd take great pleasure in playing puppets with him; all his actions already blamed on his nature, no one daring to speak out against the gorgeous and loving and kind, the new mother, sister and friend of all Agrabah.

Of course, her trial run with Eric had to go smoothly, and slowly, too.

She had done nothing at all major with him; peeked at a few vaults, given a few secrets to people they were tucked away from, put a price on a few people's heads, minor things, in the long run, and all utterly justifiable.

She never did anything without consideration.

Above all she was considerate.

That was why there was a high chance that little Melody would not be a problem anymore; out of sight, out of mind and oh, so easy to move on from.

What a lovely, loyal friend she was being to Ariel.

She didn't even ask for thanks.

She beckoned her servants idly, wondering if her blue piece was fitting for a conqueror, before she ordered the ornate, jewelled silver version.

From girl, to woman, to invader – not a very bad life plan, not at all.

….

''So, Grigori; what should I be taught first, in your opinion?'' she furrowed her brow, asking the first in a long line of questions she intended to be answered.

To have such power, to make such beauty – she could spread people's dreams, and wishes, and bring suitable justice to those who quelled them, and, just perhaps, it would allow herself to be just that – herself, whomever that was.

Could she make fireworks appear from her fingertips, or give people their truest desires, like in all the stories; and how long would it take if she could, how much dedication would it need, and, more importantly, could she give to it.

''My dear, why don't we do something of more importance first? It would be an honour to show you everything fit for a princess.'' He simpered, smiling at her.

''Oh, really?'' she asked, with false suspicion, 'I doubt there are many things like that here.''

''Perhaps I should start with a gift?'' He gave her, seemingly from nowhere at all a gown, folded enough to look small, in deep red and made from a fabric that seemed to call her to reach out and touch its luxury.

''Thank you.'' She monitored how genuine she sounded cautiously; it was lovely, of course but she needed more than a dress, she needed a purpose, and however enchantingly tailored it was it would hardly provide her with one.

It would seem she used her well utilised ''Christmas voice.''

She unveiled it, the dress shimmering to spite her as she saw it in its full splendour, and she rather hated it for that.

Still; she would let herself try it on, at least if it would help her reconnect with her old life of lavishness. Her eyes darted about for where she could undress, looking for somewhere she could do so modestly.

''Darling,'' he chuckled, ''what do you have to hide from me?' 'He even managed to look hurt, although he did question how appropriate that expression was afterwards.

She nodded a weak half reply, and closed her eyes as she discarded her older clothes.

She had not planned anything like that with him again.

The troublesome, evil, ignorantly acted night was made in a heady mix of anxiety, doubt, alcohol and sheer recklessness, and, though she may have enjoyed the act, the consequences more than overshadowed that possibility.

Seeing her like that again – memories crawled up her skin, followed by regrets burrowing into her, each pitter patter of their claws Satan's favourite composition to her ears, and her eyes clouded, face flushed with guilt and the beginnings of tears.

Gently, he touched her, cupping her breast.

She flinched, mouth gulping; tears brought to a sudden halt, as she nearly retched, trying to rein in the disgust, for both herself and her situation in. He was trying to comfort her, and she repaid him by her silly outburst and she held onto his hand, looking away; another confrontation impossible to manage.

He brushed her hand, glad she was avoiding his face.

The stupid girl; everything he did with her was in her willingness, and she made sounds of pleasure, not screams; which were his ultimate temptation. Was he not even allowed pleasure within his work, pleasure she was tantalisingly willing for barely days prior?

He calmed, rage turning calmer, ebbing from his bones.

He would ruin her even more for that; and he knew a thousand ways to do that, each delicious, whether as an appetiser or dessert; and her reactions would give him so much satisfaction, he might even beg her to say them constantly; her pleas the best erotica any world could give him.

He imagined it as he stroked her nails, telling her to calm, ''hush, now,'' as she clung to him, eye contact still unmaintained her, in such a similar position, but her protector, her lover going against her every hope, breeding new nightmares.

Finally, she gulped once more with finality, hit her left wrist with her right hand, and started to put on his gift, his dreams hidden until the next glimpse of what could be.

The waiting was part of the game.

''Well; do you think I should stave off magic, for today, or should I take a shot at it now?'' she asked him, attention firmly away from that incident.

''Now.'' He said firmly, in his true voice, her quietly defiant eyes unwavering in spite of this.

''You will be taught the basis of every force on this Earth worth paying attention to, with only this as help.''

He sprinkled some gold coloured dust into her hand; and its appearance of garish glitter only hindered her confidence, but she would try anyway, whether it was real or not.

''Picture fire in your mind – do not only picture it, but feel it sear onto your mind, till it implants into your palms.''

She wondered why that was such a staple, but continued regardless; starting her picture simply, with a small flash of orange setting alight kindling, until it swelled into visions of ash, and charring, and searing.

She tried adding water to the fires, soothing them back into something manageable, until she noticed the first sparks where appearing on her hand; hot and painful, yes; but leaving no marks.

Even with that aid, for an amateur that must have been quite impressive, and she wanted it to swell.

Her images grew more powerful, forest fires, deer leaping not to be caught in the flames, rushed and panicked; canons of war blasting their melody's, leaving bodies and mourning as their closing notes.

Somewhere, in the back of all the heat, rush and agony; something begged for her to be disgusted – thinking such twisted things; ends justifying the means as they may have been.

She spat at it.

Her eyes grew wide as her smile; the flame spilling over her hand, nearly catching the rug.

Damn.

Her focus was lost, and irritation gained.

All the while, Rasputin watched, eager to humour her paltry mockery; the beginnings of anger forming as he saw she was not inept, before they gave way to rationality.

He could teach her it, until she questioned herself, until he was free to sow the seeds of guilt and disgust; or get burnt by fire he would gladly touch twice, if only his result would be more glorious in sight of it.

He patted her hand and soothed her, smiling genuinely; entranced by her long pink fingernails as he realised he would rip them from her with his teeth, one by one, in the end.

Everything was for the end.

She giggled as she saw him squirm; touching his back as she recreated the flames, unable to stop it spilling from her lips; as he cursed her outright, breaking the mask and slapping her face.

Her eyes darted side to side with realisation at both acts; first in horror to herself, then in horror to his; stroking her reddened cheek in disbelief, backing away from him; more apt to notice details of him from then on.

She forgot – she never even knew, he was naked – how did she not realise?

His back was, unlike her hands, scarred from the burns; at once puckered and a too vibrant pink, his rough skin looking far worse than it ever had done, even without her staring at his ribs; bold and jarring.

Worse than any back pain, she scowled noticing his arousal – whether from his own pain or causing hers.

''Get away,'' she breathed heavily, trying to sound sure, ''and put some clothes on.''

She winced at that, making it sound more comical than anything.

He grinned even wider, striding to her crumpled form with no doubt or hesitation, putting his arms to the wall and trapping her in, before lowering himself down, and kissing her hand.

''I'm sorry I lashed out at you, dear. As for my clothing – well, your memory can't have benefitted from your treatment, and I will aid you, regardless of any burns I may obtain – you, darling, deserve that at least from me.''

He walked back to dress himself in his customary robe, and then embraced her tightly, smothering her in apologies.

She hurt him, of course she did.

None would just take being burnt – she would preserve her trust in him, at least, as a reward for his apologies and promises.

How could she be ungrateful as well as harm him?

…

''I'm terribly sorry about anything Nyx might have said or done; she is very unique, but not always only in the good ways - tea?'' He asked, keeping the British stereotype alive and kicking, while listing the bountiful varieties available; oolong, Jasmine, green, peppermint, or some ''smuggled'' British classic.

''Actually; I'll have to decline, I am here because of an urgent matter,'' his face drooped into a pout as she said no, and so she hastily added, 'though peppermint would be lovely afterwards. But, where is Nyx – I know she seemed unhappy with me, (Yes, unhappy was a suitably diplomatic word) but this really is business which needs addressing; otherwise I would hate to interrupt your lives.''

Nyx walked in on that moment, sighing, shrugging and generally annoyed, her leather jacket pulled up in a small act of defiance.

''Well, I'm here, and yeah – I'll talk.'' She said, wearily; leading Ariel into a separate room without any others.

''First things first – apart from Miguel; who, in case you haven't noticed, is Nani's boyfriend, no one else knows who you are, even he doesn't really, and let's just say these people don't take magic as well as you think they would, being caught up in it an all,'' she smiled, before turning back to seriousness, ''So, don't ask them anything; if you want to, say hello, goodbye, hey, maybe even if they can find you some cheap meds, but please, don't get them caught up in Melody's situation. Especially not Lilo. Yes, we are more than friends – no, it really doesn't matter and I will not explain lesbianism to you, because that is a kettle of fish even a mermaid can't understand, in your position. Now that's over with, what about that urgent matter?''

''Well; I know it sounds like a lot, and it is but – please, show me Melody – let me see my little girl.''

That didn't.

Well; she may not like Melody, or Ariel or any of _that_ life; but she would not refuse that.

''Fine.'' She said, finally.

''Just like that?'' Ariel beamed.

''Well, yeah – I've been watching over her sometime, not always reliable, but still; I kinda have to trust it, huh? Before you ask why – I think the kingdom's aren't safe anymore – especially yours; power plays, villain intrusions, blame it on the kitchen sink if you wanna; but war is only so far away. I have duty to stop my Ohana from being involved.''

Ariel gave a puzzled look at the foreign word.

''Ohana – that's why I'm going to help you, I guess. It means family. It's also why I dislike the kingdoms; if they can rip royalty apart, what are they allowed to do to the rest of us. Anyway, hope you're good at fighting, 'cus you're gonna need to be.''

''Umm…''how was she meant to reply to that?

''Just say goodbye; and for gods sakes don't forget to drink some damn ta, and eat a cake while you're at it – Miguel's sad face is a mess. Then, that where this family ends for you; I'll send you stuff to your palace, l and you can leave Lilo well alone.''

They both walked into the room, Nyx smiling, half unnaturally, to ease any tension she had caused; Miguel soon talking again.

''So; I heard the words Ohana, kingdom and royalty,'' Nani shot him a disparaging look, ''darling; I have got expertise in listening through keyholes. So, do we have an obscure duchess with us?''

''Sort of,'' Ariel smiled, happy to be near such a warm person.

He bowed, Nani playfully slapping his arm.

''Well; Lady whomever; sorry he's such a goofball. Did Nyx help at all?''

She nodded enthusiastically, before reaching for a slither of pineapple cake, noting the spoon was not a hairdressers tool; and made herself not run it through her hair, as was so oddly relaxing to her.

''You seem to like that, huh? I'm glad at least he can cook, even if I can't. But aren't we forgetting we kind of need to know your name?''

''I thought you did – I'm Ariel Triton; I can't usually goo here – I live in another- I live in a – little sea town, somewhere…''

''Are you staying at all?'' he enquired.

''Well; I would love to, but my family needs a little help (supreme understatement) right now.''

''We all know the feeling; I was just a disenchanted traveller when I came here; I never even knew a woman could be even more beautiful than the tropics here; but it was after close friends left and well, I didn't take it so well. Lilo's a great kid, because Nani's been a great sister, and a great mother, and she's happy with Nyx, so who are we to judge at all?''

''Every family needs a little fixing, and love does the trick pretty well, as do mutant dog – pets, just , normal, lively cuddly pets.''Nani added, obviously covering up her own stories.

Ohana – they had it alright, and she wanted it more than ever.

….

''So, miss Kate; you have found yourself in such odd circumstances have you not – oh, please; we I'm going to kill you.'' She smirked as she saw the human squirm.

''Hexxus is a pivotal part of our plans, but as of now my employer has bigger things to manage. So, Kate; why don't we discuss what on Earth we're going to do with you,'' she then remembered her plan to befriend the girl by way of sympathy, and mad a mental note to stop with the overtly sadistic tone of voice, 'It can't be much worse than what The King has planned for me.''

She looked out into the mid distance, breathed heavily and turned back to her audience.

Hexxus looked bepuzzled by this impromptu acting, but, as a thespian she was not going to respond immaturely to critics.

The Horned King decided to walk back in, from wherever the hell he had been, obviously gracing his plans with precious little time; and addressed Hexxus as he did so, his vice indicating he would speak grudgingly.

''Hexxus, I need you to assess the other candidates with me, whilst my assistant discusses matters with her.'' He pointed derogatorily to Kate.

Linden waited until the two had wandered back off, and then proceeded to hold her head in her hands and sniff.

''I can't believe he forced me into working for him – I'm such a horrible person, I actually, I let myself do those things…I'm sorry, you don't want to hear my troubles; I'll try help you as best I can, but you have to stay stronger than me, alright?''

Kate stayed silent, eyes regarding her at once warily and pityingly.

Well, Linden thought, half the battle was, more or less already won then.

''Eris, do you wish to become part of the allegiance?'' The Horned King tried to communicate to her, no reply heard.

''Hmm, well; let me see, I either have power, on my own, or power, with new playmates – either way; I have power, hmm, why not – after all; what could I lose – oh, yes,'' she giggled, ''a lot less than either of you.''

Eris had, unsurprisingly materialised within that very room, swirling around nonchalantly, enjoying herself as she tested her flexibilities in a new area.

….

She paced up and down, the sound of her steps ringing in her mind; loud and annoying; wondering what could be done about the Eric situation.

He had been running the country as usual, mostly, but had publically said that if Melody were to return to him, he would imprison her in the same way they had imprisoned Morgana before her, with no mercy; for the good of their kingdom.

He had also been seen less and less in public, and was unwilling or incapable or interacting above yes, no, or ahh; when he usually engaged quite easily with his subjects, albeit the ones with higher social standing mostly.

''I think what he's announced is ghastly too,'' John confided, ''whatever the laws are if we could have a daughter I would protect her with my life, legally or otherwise. The responsibilities of this world are not all yours though; I wish you'd just let life be life, however horrid, sometimes, Pocahontas. I don't want you hurt by intervention, and whatever we think, we can hardly stop Eric's right to rule as he dubs fit, especially if Ariel doesn't seem to be able to.''

He held her hand, trying to make her more relaxed, sadly walking away when he saw it was a lost cause.

Sometimes, he thought she was too good for the world, and, at other times, he knew it.

**Authors Notes**

**I much prefer this chapter to the one prior, and now can tell you I will be regularly updating every two, to two and a half months, depending on schoolwork, holidays, or other factors.**

**I have tried to take your reviews into account, and since noticing shocking errors of grammar, structure and spelling and I will try to correct those sometime soon. **


End file.
